


Malum Non Moritur

by TazzyJan



Series: Daemones Surge [3]
Category: Les Trois Mousquetaires | The Three Musketeers - Alexandre Dumas, The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Angst, Betrayal, Body Image, Bondage, Branding, Dark, Dom/sub, Dubious Consent, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Horror, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Marking, Nightmares, Non-Consensual Spanking, OT3, OT4, Polyamory, Spanking, Supernatural Elements, Suspense, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-07
Updated: 2018-08-05
Packaged: 2018-08-07 06:04:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 31
Words: 326,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7703389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TazzyJan/pseuds/TazzyJan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As the boys try to get on with their lives, they come to find that the evil behind Bathory's reign is not as easily vanquished as the woman herself.  It has survived... and it remembers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_O you who reach this house of suffering,_  
_be careful how you enter, whom you trust;_  
_the gate is wide, but do not be deceived!_  
― Dante Alighieri, Inferno

Spring 1632 

La Oscuridad swirled within the confines of the small shed it had called home ever since Bathory’s destruction at the hands of the Seminarian. It knew it was only a matter of time before it was finally able to leave this place, no longer forced to remain tethered to the physical manifestation of its presence, the few remnants of it that had survived the purge of both Bathory’s compound and estate. Every life it took, no matter how insignificant, made it stronger. Soon it would be able to slip through the cracks the same way the mice and rats it lured to it did. Then it would be free. 

Free to feed on more than paltry vermin and stray cats. 

Free to grow strong and powerful once more. 

Free to find the Seminarian.

Oh, what a reckoning there would be then. Bathory had been its agent for decades. Her destruction had weakened it greatly. For that alone, it would make the Seminarian pay. His screams would be the sweetest of ambrosia and it would drink of them for days and days, until his mind was as shattered as a broken vase. 

It knew how to do it now, too. It had not held him in its grip for long but it had been long enough. It knew his secrets, the fears he kept locked inside of him. It had seen the man and woman, the two who had come so close to breaking him. When it was free, it would seek them out, ensuring their paths crossed one final time. 

And if that was not enough, there were his dear _brothers_ to consider. He had nearly destroyed himself at Bathory’s hands to spare them. Even when it had held him, it had known to be careful of them, of the bond they shared, sensing it could be used to disrupt its hold. What he had been forced to watch at the ruins had come close to breaking him and they had not been lovers then. It could well imagine what being forced to watch yet again would do to him. 

It wondered idly which one would be the most useful for such a purpose. It did not think the dark one would work in that regard. The bond between them was too strong. To tamper with that would likely destroy the Seminarian utterly and that was not what it wanted. It wanted him to hurt. That left the leader and the boy. The leader had been his first love among them and had been made to suffer for the Seminarian’s sins before. To see him made to suffer again would prove deliciously painful. The boy, though, was tempting. The bond between them was different from the one he shared with the others. He called the boy Master. And the boy had already proven himself more than willing to sell his very soul for the Seminarian.

It was a conundrum but at least it would give it something to think about as it waited and fed and grew strong. Soon the Seminarian… the Musketeer… _Aramis_ would be within its clutches again and then the devil would have its due.

&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M

"How do you suppose our brothers have fared while we've been away?" Aramis asked as he and Athos neared the maison. They had been gone for five days, visiting the families of the murdered girls. Aramis had insisted on informing them personally and paying his respects. The meetings had been painful and the one with Estelle’s parents had nearly done him in. As soon as they had ridden up alone, her father had known. He still thanked them for coming to tell him rather than leave him and his wife to forever wonder, going so far as to offer them a room for the night. Aramis had declined, knowing his composure would not be able to withstand a mother’s grief. 

Riding away, he had thought of their other brothers. Porthos and d'Artagnan had wanted to accompany them but Aramis had asked them to stay behind, needing them to see that he was able to look after himself once more. They had not liked the idea, but they had understood and had not tried to dissuade him. Now, they were nearly home and Aramis found himself anxious to see them.

"I am sure they have fared well enough without us," Athos smiled. He, too, had understood Aramis' need to regain his independence. He also understood why it was the man had wanted him to go with him rather than Porthos or his Master. Not that he minded. Five days alone with Aramis, even traveling on so somber an errand, had been heavenly for Athos. It was not so much that he minded sharing time with Aramis with his brothers, but the luxury of having Aramis all to himself was not one he would pass up.

Aramis glanced at his companion, taking in the little tells that years of friendship made plain. "You do not seem as eager to return home as I would have expected," he offered.

"I am," Athos replied, "and I am not."

Aramis reined his horse to a stop and turned to face his brother. "Athos?" he frowned, suddenly worried.

"Peace, love," Athos said as he moved his horse in close beside him. "I am anxious to return to our brothers but, at the same time, I find myself reluctant to... give you back, as it were. I have basked in the warmth of having you all to myself for days now. I fear I have become somewhat spoiled."

"Oh," Aramis said, blushing at Athos' words. He knew what his lover meant, though. He had enjoyed the closeness and attentiveness of just the two of them as well.

"Stop fretting," Athos chided gently when he saw Aramis start to frown. "As I told you once before, I would change nothing, but I will not pass up a chance for time alone with you either."

They started out once more, urging their horses a bit faster by unspoken agreement. As they rode, Aramis thought about his brothers, his lovers, and his relationships with them. He wondered if the others longed for time alone as well, time where they could focus solely on each other without worry or guilt. He would have to find some way to ask them and if they did then he would make time for them. His brothers had done so much for him, sacrificed themselves willingly time and again. If they needed more from him then he would find a way to give it to them.

Athos could practically see the wheels turning in Aramis' head as they rode. He had not intended to distress him and did not think he had, overmuch. He was looking forward to getting home and seeing the others. He only hoped d'Artagnan would not be too upset when Aramis and Porthos took to their own room that night rather than sharing with them. He would simply have to do his best to keep his young lover distracted until such time as Porthos was ready to let Aramis up for air. While he knew he had no hope of meeting the need in d'Artagnan that Aramis did, he thought he could play the part well enough in the interim. D'Artagnan had bought him those lovely leather cuffs, after all. It seemed a shame not to put them to use.

As they neared the house, Aramis could not get Athos' words out of his head. His Athos never asked for anything. It seemed utterly callous of him to deny him one of the few things he had, even if he did not realize he was asking for it at the time. Reining his horse to a stop once more, he waited for Athos. "Follow me," was all he said and he turned his horse away from the trail leading toward the maison, heading toward the glade instead. If Athos did not wish to 'give him back' as he put it, then Aramis would not force him to. Not right away, at least.

Athos rode along behind Aramis, curious as to where he was taking them. They were only minutes from home and he knew Aramis wanted to return to Porthos. When they broke out of the trees into the other side of the glade, Athos felt his heart clench. "This is not necessary," he said, understanding what Aramis was up to now.

"Few things in life are," Aramis replied. "Yet I would give you this. One last bit of time together, just the two of us."

"I did not say that to make you..."

"I know," Aramis stopped him. "You never would. You so rarely ask for anything. Let me give you this, love. You... you are not the only one who has enjoyed our solitary time, you know."

Athos felt his heart give another lurch as he looked at Aramis. He nodded, not trusting himself to speak. Once the horses were tethered, he took the blankets from their bedrolls and spread them out on the ground. He considered grabbing the oil as well but thought better of it. They would be going home after this and he had no illusions about how Aramis' reunion with Porthos would go. He did not want him too sore to enjoy it properly.

Shedding their doublets, they knelt down on the blankets facing each other. Athos reached out then and cupped Aramis' face. Slowly, he brought their mouths together, kissing him softly as he stroked the side of his face, his thumb gliding lightly over the scars there.

Aramis could not suppress a shiver as Athos tenderly kissed him. When he felt the man stroke the scars on his face, he gasped into their kiss. He was rewarded with Athos easing his tongue into his mouth, stroking along his own and tasting him as they knelt together. It did not take long for Athos' tender kisses to having him trembling, just as they always did. The careful way Athos treated him in times like this undid him in a way that little else could. That even now Athos would treat him as something precious, something sacred, made his heart swell and he soon found himself moaning into their kiss.

"Athos," Aramis moaned when the man finally pulled back, breaking their kiss. 

"I am here, beloved," Athos told him as he gathered Aramis into his arms and held him. He could feel the fine tremors running through him and rubbed up and down his back soothingly. When he felt Aramis begin to calm, he pulled back and began removing his lover's shirt. Tossing it aside, he laid Aramis down on the blankets then quickly shed his own shirt before laying down beside him and kissing him once more.

Athos spent long minutes simply kissing Aramis, as if that was all he intended for their encounter. Only when Aramis was moaning almost constantly and writhing beneath him, did Athos pull back from his mouth and begin placing soft kisses all along his jaw and neck. He took his time, savoring the taste and feel of Aramis beneath him. He kissed his way down his lightly haired chest, sucking each nipple until it stood up stiff and red. Then he was moving downward again, kissing all over his belly until he reached the top his breeches.

"Athos, please," Aramis begged as Athos set about turning him inside out with naught but his lips and tongue. 

"Let me pleasure you," Athos whispered as he looked up at Aramis. He was lying on his belly between Aramis' legs, his hands resting on the man's thighs. He knew Aramis expected him to take him, but that wasn't what he wanted. Aramis was transcendent in his pleasure and Athos wanted to see that one more time before they returned home to the men waiting there for them.

"Anything," Aramis agreed, willing to give Athos whatever he wished. His body was on fire, burning itself up, as his lover touched him so reverently. 

Athos sat up then and slowly removed Aramis' breeches, touching and caressing him as he went. He never stopped touching him, unable to resist the feel of him, soft skin covering whipcord muscles. Once Aramis was spread out naked before him, he took a moment to simply look at him, admiring the natural beauty and grace that was so much a part of his lover. He watched Aramis start to fidget, blushing slightly under his scrutiny and he smiled at him.

"I love you more than life, my Aramis," he said. With that, he ducked his head down and took the head of Aramis' cock into his mouth before the other man could formulate a reply. He was gratified when his lover gave a strangled shout and tried to thrust his hips upward. Opening his mouth wide, Athos began to take him in little by little, working his way down his lover's hard cock as he moaned beneath him.

Aramis could not stop himself from thrusting forward when Athos sank his mouth down over his cock. The feel of that hot, wet mouth taking him in was quickly driving him to the brink. The fact that Athos was being just as careful in this as he had been in everything else only heightened the experience and before he knew it, Aramis found himself on the verge of tears as well as release.

Athos could feel Aramis swelling in his mouth and knew he was close. He gently rolled his lover's bollocks as he sank his mouth down on him as far as he could. A few strong sucks later and Aramis was crying out as he bucked up hard into Athos' mouth and began to spend. 

Athos continued to lick and suck him, taking everything his beautiful lover had to offer. When he felt Aramis tugging at his hair in an attempt to pull him away, he finally relented. He let Aramis slide from his mouth and placed a last kiss to the softening member then sat up on his knees. He quickly undid his breeches enough to get his aching cock out and began to stroke himself from between Aramis' spread legs. 

Aramis' eyes darkened with lust as he watched Athos taking himself in hand. The thought of his lover spilling his seed over this body, marking him in so primal a way, made him moan. On the heels of that thought came another. As there was no place to clean up between the glade and the house, Porthos was bound to be able to tell. He would know that Athos had marked him so, had brought him back to Porthos covered in another man's seed.

As Athos stroked himself he watched the emotions that skittered across Aramis' face. He grinned when he saw him blush darkly, wondering what it was he had thought of just then. "Tell me," he demanded roughly, suddenly need in to know.

"Porthos...Porthos will know," Aramis gasped. Even though he had just spent, the thought sent a bolt of desire through him and he spread his legs wider, baring himself to Athos' hungry gaze.

"Oh yes," Athos panted, his own release coming quickly. "Perhaps I should use some of my spend to get you ready for him. We both know how impatient he can be at times."

"Athos!" Aramis gasped loudly, shaking his head from side to side at the very idea.

"Would you like that?" Athos purred above him. "Would you like to know that when he's fucking you it's my spend slicking the way?"

"Yes, please," Aramis begged, his spent cock twitching though it could do no more than that. 

With a shout, Athos began to spend, striping Aramis' stomach and groin. The sight of the man moaning and writhing before him had pushed him over the edge. When he was done, he was leaning over Aramis, one hand bracing himself on the ground while the other stroked his cock, determined to milk every drop of spend from himself that he could. When he finally sat back once more, he found Aramis' eyes glittering darkly.

Surveying the mess he had made of his lover, Athos reached out and began to massage Aramis' cock, rubbing in the spend that had landed on it and pulling a debauched groan from the man. Once all of the spend on his cock had been rubbed in, he ran his fingers through the thick, white lines on his lover's stomach. His fingers now coated, Athos pushed Aramis' legs further apart, baring his hole. While it was better than spit, spend was still not the best slick and Athos pressed his two fingers in carefully.

Aramis cried out at the feeling of Athos breaching him and arched his back. His body was still relaxed after his orgasm and Athos' fingers slid into him easily. The knowledge that Athos was preparing him for Porthos only increased his slowly rising desire. He could imagine his love's reaction when he found out Athos had prepared him and again when he learned of the particulars. While Porthos was not especially possessive where his brothers were concerned, that Aramis would come to him after days apart reeking of another man's musk would wreak havoc on his self-control. He would be lucky if he was even able to walk when Porthos was done with him.

"You do realize he is going to fuck you through the floor, do you not?" Athos commented as he pulled his fingers out. He gathered up more of his cooling seed and this time pushed in with three fingers. He felt Aramis' body clamp down on him and slowed. He was going to have a hard enough time handling Porthos, he didn't need Athos making him sore beforehand.

"I'm rather counting on it," Aramis panted as Athos' strong fingers stretched him.

Athos chuckled at his reply. He pulled his fingers free once more to gather the last of his spend then he was pressing them back inside Aramis' body, causing both of them to moan. "I shall endeavor to keep d'Artagnan distracted," he said, twisting his fingers as he pushed them in as deeply as he could.

"Dis-distracted?" Aramis stammered, pushing down against Athos' hand to try to get even more of him inside.

"He has been without you these past days, too," Athos reminded him as he slowly withdrew. "But he will understand your need to be with Porthos first."

Aramis' hand shot out and grabbed Athos by the arm before he could move away. He pulled him down and kissed him then let go. "He has been without you, too, love," Aramis replied gently. "I dare say he will not notice much of anything past your return to him."

"Oh," Athos said, surprised. "I had not really thought..."

"Do we truly lose ourselves in each other so much that you think we do not even see you?"

"No," Athos said at once. "The deepening of what is between us is still new. Sometimes..."

"Sometimes you cannot believe that you have been so utterly blessed?" Aramis offered with a smile. "I can relate."

"Just so," Athos smiled back. He climbed to his feet and reached down to pull Aramis up as well. They had lovers to get back to after all.

&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M

"Do you think they'll be home today?" D'Artagnan asked as he lay back against Porthos. They were on the divan with d'Artagnan sitting between Porthos' spread legs, his back resting against the bigger man's chest. He laid his head back on his shoulder as Porthos tightened his arm around him, holding him close.

"Maybe," he replied. "If not today, tomorrow for sure. You missing him, Whelp?"

"Just worried," d'Artagnan sighed. Porthos had started rubbing gentle circles into his stomach and it never failed to relax him.

"I don't like them being gone either," Porthos admitted as he leaned forward and placed a kiss just behind the younger man's ear. "But he needed to do this."

"I know. I just don't like it is all."

"I could give you something else to think about," Porthos whispered into his ear, his voice low and rough, letting d'Artagnan know just what he wanted to do.

"Mmm," d'Artagnan moaned. "You could. You could fuck me with something other than your fingers, too."

"I could," Porthos chuckled. "But I'm not going to. I got plans for the first time I take you."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah," Porthos growled. "And we need Athos and Aramis here for it. Besides, Aramis hasn't taken you yet. He gets you before I do."

"Tell me what you're planning," d'Artagnan asked. His body was already starting to respond and the thought of Porthos fucking him was making his cock throb in his breeches.

"Gonna give you what you asked for," Porthos told him as he bit down lightly on his neck and sucked. "Gonna put you on your hands and knees and make you take all three of us. First Athos, then Aramis is gonna fuck your sweet ass. Then, when you're exhausted and aching with their spend running down your thighs, then I'm going to fuck you."

"Please," d'Artagnan groaned, Porthos' words going straight to his cock.

"Please what, boy?" Porthos demanded, knowing how much a show of force turned their youngest on.

D'Artagnan was about to say 'anything' when the sound of the kitchen door opening made both men freeze. On instinct, Porthos' hand reached beneath the divan for the pistol he had placed there. His hand had no more than grasped the butt of it when Athos and Aramis came into the he room.

"You're back!" Porthos exclaimed, pushing the pistol back under the divan as d'Artagnan scrambled up and off him. He couldn't help but grin as their youngest all but ran over to the pair. He felt a moment of worry when he headed straight for Athos but a quick glance at Aramis' indulgent smile showed no slight had been taken. Porthos was glad of that for he had plans for his lover now that he was back and was anxious to get to them.

"Welcome home," d'Artagnan said as he pulled Athos into a deep kiss, one hand stroking his face while the other clutched at his waist to pull him closer still.

"Have we been missed?" Aramis asked coyly as Porthos came to him. He sighed when the big man wrapped his arms around him and kissed him.

"Sorely," Porthos confirmed when he finally broke away. "Are you hurt anywhere?"

"No," Aramis replied, confused by the unexpected question. 

"That's all I needed to know," Porthos said then bent down and hoisted Aramis up over his shoulder earning an indignant squawk from the man. "Unless the place is on fire, don't come looking for us."

Athos and d'Artagnan laughed as Porthos carried Aramis toward their bedroom, Aramis struggling and cursing the whole way. Not that the man actually wanted to get away, but he knew how much it riled Porthos up when he made him work for it. Apparently, Aramis had missed them as much he had been missed by them.

"Are you tired?" D'Artagnan asked, turning his attention back to his own returned lover and looking him over. "I can fix you something to eat..."

"The only thing I require at the moment is you," Athos told him.

"I'm so glad you're home," d'Artagnan said as he pulled him into his arms again and held him. He buried his face in the side of his lover's neck and inhaled deeply, basking in the familiar scent that was Athos. It never failed to soothe him and this time was no exception.

"I missed you, too," Athos said as he held him back.

While Athos and d'Artagnan got reacquainted in the sitting room, Porthos carried his squirming bundle into their bedroom. He kicked the door closed behind him then tossed Aramis onto the bed. He landed in a sprawl and Porthos licked his lips at the unintentionally provocative pose. "You're mine," he growled as he yanked his shirt off over his head and threw it aside before advancing on the bed.

"Now, Porthos," Aramis began, holding his hand out in a warding gesture.

"Too late for that," he said as he knelt on the bed next to where Aramis sat leaning back on his elbows. He began striping him down hastily, starting with his weapons. He had the presence of mind not to simply toss those aside, but lay them carefully on the floor. Once that was done, he returned to his quarry, attacking his doublet and all but tearing it from him.

In less time than he would have thought possible, Porthos had him stripped to the skin. He was panting and flushed, his cock hardening at the thought of what was to come. He had expected an enthusiastic greeting upon his return but this far surpassed that and he did not even know what Athos had done yet. At that thought, Aramis could not hold back a moan, his cock thickening even more.

Suddenly, a hand fisted in his hair and pulled him into a rough kiss. Porthos claimed his mouth, shoving his tongue in deep and taking what he wanted. By the time the man released him, Aramis was fully hard and shaking with need. He started to reach for him again, but Porthos pushed him down on the bed. Looming over him, he began to kiss and lick his way down Aramis' body, relishing the taste and feel of his lover beneath him once again.

Aramis was so caught up in the feel of Porthos' mouth on him that he forgot everything else. At least he did until Porthos froze, his mouth hovering just beneath Aramis' navel. "You reek of spend," Porthos growled menacingly as he looked up at Aramis' face.

"Athos..."

"Athos what?" Porthos demanded, putting as much bite into his words as he could manage. He was not upset with his lover. He had no qualms about sharing him with his brothers or with the aftermath of their encounters. He knew, though, that Aramis got a certain thrill from his possessive streak at times and had a feeling this was done to deliberately provoke it.

"We stopped at the glade," Aramis replied quickly. "He took me in his mouth and then... then spilled his seed on me."

"Tell me the rest," Porthos snarled, knowing Aramis was holding back.

"He rubbed it in," Aramis blushed hotly. "He rubbed his spend into my cock so... so you would know. And... and he used the rest to... to... to get me ready for you."

"You telling me he used his own spend to slick you?" Porthos whispered as he leaned in close.

"Y-y-yes," Aramis stammered. "He knew you would not want to wait to take me and wanted me ready for you."

"I'm gonna fuck you so hard you can't walk," Porthos vowed. "But first, I want to taste his spend inside of you." Sitting back on his heels, Porthos grabbed Aramis and flipped him over drawing a moan of desire from the man at his blatant show of strength. Once Aramis was on his belly, Porthos settled back down between his thighs and spread his cheeks, baring his hole to him. He could see the telltale wetness from Athos' ministrations and had to bite back a groan of his own at the sight.

Aramis felt Porthos' breath ghost over his exposed hole, giving him the barest of warnings. Before he could brace himself, he felt Porthos' fat, wet tongue swipe over his hole and jerked hard as he cried out. He felt Porthos grip his hips hard, holding him in place, then his lover was diving back in, his broad tongue licking over his hole again and again while he moaned and writhed at the feel of it. Every time Porthos' tongue touched him, it sent a jolt sizzling along his nerves. In no time at all, his cock was rock hard and leaking and Porthos showed no signs of letting up.

"Please..." Aramis gasped, panting at the unrelenting assault. When he felt Porthos pushing at his hole as if to breech him, he keened loudly and shoved back as much as the man's grip would allow.

"Taste so fucking good. Love the taste of you both together," Porthos husked as he licked over him then shoved his tongue inside as far as he could. He felt Aramis stiffen and buck and knew he was close to losing it. The thought of making him spend like this made his own cock throb and he tightened his grip even more.

"Please, Porthos... I will spend..." Aramis groaned, his body on fire.

"If you do, I won't let anyone fuck you for a week," he threatened. He knew what it did to Aramis to be denied in such a way and was rewarded by his lover's desperate wail as he struggled to hold on. Porthos, however, had no intention of letting him and redoubled his efforts to make him spend screaming on his tongue. He knew he was being a bit cruel. After all, it would not just be Aramis who would suffer if he failed, but he had no intention of actually following through with his threat. While he had no doubt that the Whelp would abide by it, he would never deny the pair like that, especially after making him wait to see Aramis again in the first place. That, though, was for later. Now all that he cared about was making his lover spend so he could finally fuck him.

"Porthos... Porthos, please. I can't hold on," Aramis begged, doing everything he could to keep from spending. While a week without sex would certainly not harm him, he had already been gone for almost that long and craved the touch of the brothers he had missed.

Porthos ignored his plaintive cry and began fucking him with his tongue. When he ground his face against him, shoving in deep and letting his beard drag over his sensitive rim, it was too much. With a shuddering wail of 'No!' Aramis began to spend, his seed spilling out onto the bedding below him. Porthos rode him through his release, continuing to drive his tongue in and out and enjoying the way his body clamped down around it. Only when he was sure he was completely spent did Porthos sit up. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and looked down, surveying his handiwork. His lover was still shaking as his body tried to calm and Porthos thought he had never looked better than he did right then - utterly spent and his for the taking.

Aramis was still coming back to himself when he felt Porthos' hands roll him over onto his back. He could not remember the last time he had spilled so hard. He tried not to think about the repercussions of his loss of control, instead concentrating on his as yet unsatisfied lover. He watched dazedly as Porthos leaned over him to retrieve the pot of oil from the bedside table. In truth, he didn't think he needed it. Between Athos' preparations and Porthos' own attentions, his body was as loose and accommodating as it was ever likely to be. He knew Porthos did not wish to hurt him, though, so held his tongue and simply watched as the man coated his straining erection with the glistening liquid.

"I love you," Aramis whispered as Porthos moved up between his legs. His lover's eyes snapped to his at the softly spoken words and Aramis smiled tenderly. He saw Porthos hesitate and reached for him, running his hand up and down his arm.

"Aramis..." Porthos groaned suddenly overcome.

"Take me, love," Aramis urged. "Remind me of what I have been missing these past days without you."

With a nod, Porthos placed the head of his oiled cock at the entrance to his lover's body. "I want..." He hesitated, somewhat unsure. "Can I..."

"As hard as you need," Aramis told him, sensing what was holding him back. "Make me feel you. Oh Porthos, make me feel you for days."

Aramis' quiet entreaty was enough to break the fragile control Porthos had managed to get on his rampaging lust. He snapped his hips forward hard, driving his cock half way into his lover's body and causing Aramis to cry out loudly at the abrupt intrusion. Porthos paused for a few seconds, panting hard, trying to give the other man time to adjust. The feel of Aramis beneath him like this was too much, though, and he snapped his hips forward again, burying himself to the root before could stop. Clenching his jaw hard, he forced himself to still then. He could feel Aramis' body gripping him tightly, rippling around his prick as the man trembled with the force of his taking.

Aramis did his best to pant through the pain that rolled through him in waves. No matter how loose and relaxed he might have been, Porthos' cock was still more than his body could take all at once. He had managed to bite back his cries after the first, not wanting Porthos to feel the need to hold back. He knew once he started fucking him that he would be helpless to do anything but lay there and take it. More than anything, Porthos needed to reclaim him and Aramis would not deny him that. Sooner than he would have thought, he felt Porthos pull back, dragging his thick cock half out of him before thrusting forward hard. Aramis gasped, unable to stop himself at the feel of Porthos forcing his way inside of him, giving his body no choice but to yield. He had not felt this plundered since the first time Porthos had taken him and he fisted his hands in the sheets to try to hold on.

"Gonna fuck you now," Porthos growled in warning as he grabbed Aramis by the thighs and shoved his legs up. The change in position allowed his cock to sink in even deeper and Aramis moaned brokenly at the feel of Porthos so deep inside him. Staring down at his lover and seeing the acceptance in his eyes, he drew back until the head of his cock was barely inside him then thrust forward, burying himself to the hilt once more.

Aramis cried out in a mix of shock and pain at the near brutality of Porthos' taking. He had just enough time to suck in a breath before Porthos repeated the motion. After that, all Aramis could do was moan and thrash his head as Porthos fucked him hard and fast, pounding into his body so hard Aramis knew even his pelvis would bear the bruises of their encounter. The forcefulness of Porthos' taking alone was enough to have his own cock valiantly trying to stir, though Aramis knew it was much too soon for that. He could feel himself starting to drift as he surrendered himself for Porthos' use. His lover's blatant control, coupled with the lingering pain of being taken so, called to the part of him that would spend forever on his knees if only it were allowed him.

Porthos growled deep in his chest when he realized what was happening to Aramis. He began to fuck him even harder then, spurred on by the knowledge that _he_ had managed to reduce the other man to such a state. He could feel his bollocks drawing up, tight and full, and knew he would not be able to hold on for much longer. A single look at Aramis' lust-blown eyes looking up at him in such open adoration, such abject surrender, was all it took. With a shout, Porthos slammed forward, burying his prick in the other man and grinding against him as he began to spend. Groaning, Porthos leaned down over Aramis and nuzzled his neck as he pumped spurt after spurt of his seed into the man's clenching channel.

Aramis gasped weakly as Porthos began to spend inside of him. He tightened his bruised and sore body down as much as he could, milking his lover's seed from his prick. He heard Porthos groan as he covered his body, the hard length inside him continuing to twitch and pulse as Porthos filled him. By the time he was done, Porthos lay slumped over Aramis, spent in every conceivable way.

&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M

"Come on," Athos said when he finally pulled back from d'Artagnan's embrace. He took his young lover by the hand and led him down the hall to the room they normally shared.

D'Artagnan went with him willingly, as eager as Athos to be alone together. While he had certainly missed Aramis, the Master in him not liking his Little One being out of his sight, Athos' absence had been a near constant ache. He thought it akin to how a missing limb must feel. Now that Athos was back, he wanted to wrap himself around the man and never let go. From the way Athos refused to release him, maintaining some physical contact between them, he thought the man might be feeling something similar. Once they were alone in their room, Athos reluctantly released d'Artagnan's hand so he could start removing his gear. D'Artagnan watched him for a moment then brushed his hands away and began undressing him. He knew how intimate Athos found the act of undressing a lover, how he used it as a means to show how much he cared. D'Artagnan only hoped Athos would get as much from allowing him to do likewise, recognizing d'Artagnan's own caring in his actions.

They did not speak as d'Artagnan slowly stripped him to his braies. Only then did d'Artagnan allow Athos to do the same, basking in the feel of his lover's hands on his body once more. "You are a treasure," Athos whispered, breaking the silence as he slowly bared d'Artagnan's body to his hungry eyes.

"No more... no more than you," d'Artagnan replied, his emotions welling up and making it difficult to speak.

"I missed you," Athos told him again, smiling softly at him. When they were down to just their braies they climbed into the bed, Athos laying back and d'Artagnan resting against him, his head on his chest.

"I missed you, too," d'Artagnan assured him, needing him to know that. Being so close to Athos like this was devastating his self-control and d'Artagnan felt his cock start to harden against his lover's hip.

"So I can feel," Athos chuckled, his own cock stirring slightly at the knowledge.

Pushing himself up, d'Artagnan kissed Athos deeply, thrusting his tongue into his mouth and tasting him. He could taste a hint of something different and it took him longer than it should have to realize what it was. "You taste of Aramis' spend," he moaned against Athos' lips, his cock jerking hard at the thought.

"We stopped at the glade," Athos panted, moaning himself at d'Artagnan's discovery. To know that the man could taste their lover's spend in his mouth still seemed almost perverse and Athos felt himself responding to the decadent thrill.

"Did he suck you as well?" D'Artagnan asked, his desire soaring.

"No," Athos shook his head. "I stroked myself over him then used my spend to prepare him for Porthos."

"Oh fuck," d'Artagnan gasped. He brought his mouth down to Athos' hard and kissed him again. He shoved his tongue inside his mouth and did not pull away until he could no longer taste any hint of Aramis.

"I know you want him..."

"I want you more," d'Artagnan said firmly before Athos could even finish speaking.

"Then have me," Athos said, his eyes meeting his lover's and holding them.

"Are you sure?" 

"Very," Athos told him.

"You can take me... if you want, that is," d'Artagnan suggested shyly as he sat up and began working on Athos' small clothes. "I doubt I will need much to prepare me."

Athos nearly stopped breathing at the implication of those words and stared up at him. "Has Porthos..."

"Only with his fingers," d'Artagnan rushed to confirm. He didn't know why it was important to him for Athos to know he had not gone further with the man, but it was.

"He did this... today?"

"Yes," d'Artagnan nodded and blushed hard. "Every day you have been gone actually."

Athos felt desire slam into him at the wanton picture that came to mind. He could imagine them so easily, Porthos sitting back on the divan with d'Artagnan spread out over his lap. His young lover would be naked and writhing at the feel of Porthos' thick fingers sinking in him, fucking him over and over again. He started to ask why the pair had not gone further then realized he didn't care. Not now. There would be plenty of time to talk of that later. Right now, Athos had much more important things to concern himself with. Like where the oil was and if d'Artagnan truly needed no more preparation.

"That excites you," d'Artagnan said, the knowledge fueling his own desire maddeningly high.

"Just as the taste of Aramis' spend upon my tongue did you," Athos pointed out breathlessly.

"I want him to fuck me," d'Artagnan said, purposely goading his lover now. "But he wants Aramis to have me first. He wants..."

"What does he want?" Athos asked. They were both finally naked and he pushed d'Artagnan down onto his back on the bed then grabbed the nearby pot of oil.

"He wants you both to take me," d'Artagnan panted. "He wants me on my knees, exhausted and spent from you and Aramis, your seed running down my thighs, before he finally takes me."

Athos moaned aloud at the lewd picture his lover's words painted. "He will not go easy on you," he warned.

"No. He will… he will rut me," d'Artagnan agreed, his eyes darkening with lust. "He will _use_ me while the two of you watch.

"And you want that."

"Yes," he moaned, giving himself over to the fantasy completely. "Athos… put me on my belly and fuck me. I want to feel you holding me down."

Athos hesitated barely a moment. He sat back and grabbed d'Artagnan roughly by the arm with one hand while fisting the other in the man's hair. Using force he normally never employed with his lovers, he pulled d'Artagnan forcibly over onto his stomach. That d’Artagnan was actually asking him for such a thing was enough to override his normal caution almost entirely.

"I'd tell you to beg me for it, but we both know that isn't what you want," Athos growled into his ear as he leaned over him, using his body to press him into the bed. "You don't want to give yourself. You want to be taken. Isn't that right, little bitch?"

"Oh God. Oh God. Yes," d'Artagnan sobbed as Athos pressed him down even harder. He could feel the man's cock digging into his backside and couldn't stop from spreading his legs wantonly. 

Athos chuckled darkly in his ear when he felt d'Artagnan spreading his legs, offering himself without words for the taking. He moved off him long enough to slick his cock then leaned back over him again, pressing him down once more. "I hope you meant what you said about not needing anything more," he whispered as he nudged d'Artagnan's hole with his hardness. "Because I'm going to fuck your cunt until you scream."

"Athos..." D'Artagnan moaned, the man's words nearly undoing him then and there. Athos had never spoken to him in such a manner, had never been so crass... so base with him. It made his stomach tighten in anticipation of what was to come as he gave himself over to the man.

Athos shifted his hold on d'Artagnan’s arms. Gripping him tightly, he began to push inside of his lover. He could feel d'Artagnan's body fighting him and pulled back slightly only to shove forward again. He heard the younger man gasp and go stiff beneath him as he forced his way inside of him. 

"Ohh..." D'Artagnan moaned weakly as he felt Athos breaching him. Even as stretched as Porthos had left him, taking Athos' cock was still proving difficult. He could feel his body fighting the man and willed himself to relax. Athos was holding his arms hard enough to bruise as he inched his way inside of him. Part of him longed for the man to simply take him, to slam his cock into him and fuck him while he moaned helplessly beneath him. He knew, though, that Athos was not going to do that, the man simply unable to treat him with such obvious disregard. 

"You like that, bitch?" Athos whispered into his ear. He was all the way inside of him now, his groin flush against his lover's backside. He could feel the other man's body clenching down on him rhythmically as he struggled to accept him. 

"Yes," d'Artagnan sobbed out, his eyes squeezed shut as he blushed darkly. The thought of Athos taking him like this, of holding him down and fucking his _bitch_ , sent a frisson of desire all throughout him. His cock was hard and aching where it was pressed mercilessly into the bed and he couldn't hold back a whimper of frustrated longing.

"Something wrong, little bitch?" Athos smirked as he pulled his hips back and thrust forward hard, causing the other man to cry out loudly beneath him. "Yeah, that's it. Let me hear you. Let me hear how good my cock feels fucking its way inside of you."

"Athos... Athos, please!" D'Artagnan cried out, his body on fire. He tried to buck back onto his lover but Athos' weight held him firmly to the bed. He felt utterly controlled as Athos took him, able to barely move, having no choice but to take what his lover gave him. He had a moment to wonder if this was what it was like for Aramis when he sank down inside of himself, then Athos was pulling back and fucking into him relentlessly, driving all thought from his mind.

Even though Athos could not move as freely or as deeply as he wished in this position, the knowledge of what he was doing to d'Artagnan was enough to more than make up for it. His cock felt fit to burst and he set about fucking his lover into mindless oblivion.

D'Artagnan did his best to push back into Athos' thrusts as the man starting taking him in earnest. The feel of that hard cock shoving into him, taking his body and owning it, was so much more than he had ever imagined. The fact that it was Athos doing so only made the fire inside of him burn hotter as his own cock was ground into the bed from the force of his taking. 

He opened his mouth to warn him, to tell Athos that he was close, but it was too late. He managed a strangled scream of his lover's name then he was spending between his belly and bed, soaking the sheets with his seed as Athos fucked him through it.

"Yes," Athos moaned, nearly overcome at the feel of d'Artagnan spending. His hot channel clenched down on him almost painfully as his lover bucked beneath him. He held back until d'Artagnan was nearly spent then began to fuck him again, snapping his hips forward hard and fast as he sought his own release. A few hard thrusts later and Athos slammed in as far as he could and began to spend. He buried his face in the side of d'Artagnan's neck, breathing in the smell of his lover as he shook and spilled inside of him. Finally, he was home.

&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M

Porthos lay with Aramis curled against him, his dark head resting on his chest as he lightly stroked his back. He could feel Aramis slowly coming back to him and he waited patiently, content to simply be with him now that his passion had been sated. He would not tell the Whelp but he never rested well when Aramis was apart from him. It wasn't that he didn't find d'Artagnan's presence soothing, but he simply was not Aramis.

"Mm. I love you, my Porthos," Aramis murmured as he became aware of his surroundings once more. He was a bit surprised that he had slipped as he did. He had never done so with Porthos before. He would need to think about that and perhaps discuss it with d'Artagnan later. 

"Welcome back," Porthos grinned, tightening his grip on the man and kissing the top of his head.

"Sorry about that," he apologized. Porthos did not sound overly upset by his slip but it was rather hard for him to tell right now.

"None of that," Porthos admonished gently. "You've got nothing to be sorry for. Surprised me a bit is all."

"Me too," Aramis agreed. He lay still for a moment more before a thought occurred to him and he grimaced. "I will inform d'Artagnan of my failing and the consequences. Does your edict include my mouth as well or is he free to make use of that?"

Porthos thought about letting Aramis sweat for a little while but decided against it almost at once. He didn't want his lover worrying needlessly. Another time they could experiment with those sorts of games. "I've no intention of following through on that, love," he told him. "I wouldn't do that to either of you. We'll just have to come up with some other way for you to make it up to me." 

With that, Porthos let his hand ghost down and playfully swatted Aramis on the backside. Aramis went stock still as a jag of lust shot through him. The feel of Porthos' hand on him in such a manner was something straight out of one of his fantasies and he could not stop himself from moaning helplessly with want.

"Aramis?" Porthos called, suddenly worried he had gone too far.

"Please," Aramis pleaded, blushing all the way down his chest. "Oh Porthos, please..."

"You want this?" Porthos asked breathlessly, a surge of proprietary lust curling low in his belly at Aramis' desperate pleading.

"Yes," he whispered, squeezing his eyes shut tight in apprehension. He had never asked Porthos for anything like this before, understanding his lover's reluctance to hurt him. This wasn't hurting him, though. This was no punishment. This was pure sensation and Aramis' desire to experience the entire gamut of such to the fullest.

"Your Master..." Porthos began.

"You are not punishing me," Aramis explained hastily. "You are not hurting me, at least no more so than I wish. But if this is asking too much, I understand."

"There is nothing you cannot ask of me," Porthos told him. "But I will speak with your Master first. I won't overstep myself in this. I remember all too well how he reacted the last time I put you over my knee."

"That was different," Aramis said quietly. He knew what Porthos was referring to and understood his trepidation. After all, he, himself, had told him not to touch him in such a manner again, that his Master would not abide it. This was different, though. This was not a punishment. There was no fear, no humiliation. He wanted this and he knew his Master would understand.


	2. Chapter 2

Part 2

“Think they'll come up for air any time soon?” D'Artagnan mused as he lay in Athos' arms.  They had fallen asleep together and were unsure what time it was now.  From the shadows creeping across the wall, d'Artagnan knew it was close to sunset.  With that in mind, he needed to get up and put something together for dinner for the lot of them.  Even if the other two were not yet ready to emerge from their room, eventually they would and he wanted dinner ready for them.

  “I doubt it,” Athos chuckled.  Reaching down, he took d’Artagnan’s hand in his and gently lifted it.  He examined the wrist, noting that it looked like it was healing well.  “How is your hand faring?”

  “Good,” d'Artagnan smiled.  “Almost ready to forgo the wrapping, I think.  It doesn't pain me anymore and I can use it as much as the binding will allow.”

“Don’t rush it. I want you whole again,” Athos said as he continued to hold his healing hand, stroking his thumb over the back of it.

D’Artagnan sighed and snuggled down further in his lover’s arms. He couldn’t seem to get enough of the feel of Athos’ hands on him, no matter how innocent the touching. Still, he had to get up if he didn’t want his family to go to bed hungry tonight.

“Where are you going?” Athos asked as d’Artagnan began to untangle himself from the sheets.

“I need to fix dinner,” he said as he leaned up and pressed a kiss to the man’s mouth. “I won’t be long but my brothers will not go to bed hungry.”

“Let me help you,” Athos said as he started to get up as well.

“You should rest,” d’Artagnan argued weakly. “You’ve been travelling all day…”

“I want to be with you,” Athos said.

The quiet words stopped d’Artagnan in his tracks. He snapped his mouth shut and looked at his lover lying next to him. He had missed Athos so much in the days he had been gone and to hear that the man had missed him as well, even though Aramis had been with him, made his heart hurt. 

In the kitchen, d’Artagnan quickly began preparing something simple but filling for the lot of them. Athos’ eyes were like a weight upon him as he worked and he found himself blushing without reason every time he met the man’s gaze. Dinner for the two of them was comfortable, if somewhat more cozy than they had grown accustomed to. They were just finishing when Porthos came in, halting when he saw the pair.

“How is Aramis?” Athos asked, breaking the sudden silence.

“Ah, resting?” Porthos offered then felt himself blush hotly. The sound of both Athos and d’Artagnan chuckling relaxed him and he grinned at them sheepishly. “Probably best if he doesn’t try to get out of bed just yet.”

“Does he need anything?” d’Artagnan asked, unable to tamp down his concern.

“No, no. He’s fine, Whelp. I promise,” Porthos said at once. “Just a little sore is all.”

“Sorry,” d’Artagnan said, ducking his head.

“None of that now,” Porthos told him as he walked over and squeezed his shoulder. “You know how we feel about you two looking out for each other. There is, ah, something I need to talk to you about later on, though.”

“Of course,” d’Artagnan replied. “But for now, how about we fix you some food to take back to him? I’m assuming that is what you came in here for.”

Porthos grinned and nodded, squeezing his shoulder one last time. While d’Artagnan busied himself getting food together for the pair, Porthos turned his attention to Athos. Moving over next to him, he leaned down and kissed him, moaning at the taste and feel of him. He may have missed Aramis horribly, but he had missed this man, too. 

In no time, d’Artagnan had a tray of food prepared for the pair. When he went to pick it up, however, he couldn’t hold in a gasp of pain, his body protesting the activity so soon after Athos having taken him.

“Whelp?” Porthos called out, grabbing the tray and taking it from him. 

“I’m fine,” d’Artagnan said, waving away his concern.

“Aramis is not the only one that should probably be resting after his… reunion,” Athos offered, standing and coming around to the side of his lover. 

“I see,” Porthos said, smiling wolfishly. “Then perhaps you should take him back to bed where he belongs and keep him there. We’ll see you two in the morning.”

“You heard the man,” Athos said, arching an eyebrow when it looked like his lover meant to argue. “Or would you prefer I resort to Porthos’ tactics and simply throw you over my shoulder?”

D’Artagnan bit his lip and tried not to show just how turned on the idea made him even after Athos’ rough fucking not so long ago. He knew both Aramis and Athos looked to him to provide a certain level of control to their encounters and he didn’t mind. It was nice, however, to be able to let that go for just a little while and be on the receiving end of things. 

“Yet another idea you seem quite taken with,” Athos mused, brushing his lips against the shell of d’Artagnan’s ear causing the younger man to shiver. “When your wrist is healed, I will do all the things to you that you wish me to.”

“You don’t… don’t have to,” d’Artagnan whispered as he fought for control. “I know being forceful is not…”

“Hush,” Athos told him, stopping him mid-sentence. He cupped the back of d’Artagnan’s head, winding his fingers in his long hair then gripping tightly and pulling his head back. “As if I could ever resist seeing you like this.”

&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M

Aramis tried not to grimace as he stretched, knowing he would only feel worse if he didn’t start moving some. Porthos was still asleep beside him so he tried his best not to wake him. He knew the rising sun would have him up soon enough as it was. Turning slowly onto his side, he ran his eyes over his lover’s sleeping form. He had always found Porthos to be beautiful, though the man thought him joking whenever he said as much. He could recognize his own strength and bravery easily enough, but could never see the beauty that Aramis saw in him. Porthos told him he was looking with his heart rather than his eyes. Aramis had to wonder why anyone ever did anything else. 

“You’re staring,” Porthos said without opening his eyes.

“I am admiring the view,” Aramis informed him loftily, grinning when Porthos cracked an eye open to look at him.

“How are you feeling?” Porthos asked as he rolled over to face him, ignoring his previous comment. 

“Sore,” he admitted, “but nothing that will not pass once I am up and around.”

“You sure? Maybe you should take it easy today,” Porthos offered, not liking the idea of Aramis being in pain.

“I am fine, I promise,” Aramis assured him. “I am not an invalid. I am merely a bit sore from our enthusiastic reunion.”

“Alright,” Porthos relented, promising himself he would keep a close eye on Aramis today. The Whelp, too. He doubted if Athos had been as hard on the boy as he had on Aramis but then again, d’Artagnan was not used to such treatment. The only one to have taken the lad so far had been Athos and he was fairly certain that Athos had gone out of his way to ensure it had not been painful for him.

“What are you thinking about?” Aramis asked after a moment, noticing Porthos’ sudden distraction.

“You. And the Whelp,” he explained. “He wasn’t in too good of shape when he was putting together dinner last night. I figured I’d keep an eye on both of you today.”

“What was wrong with him?” Aramis asked alarm coloring his words.

“Nothing, love,” Porthos said at once. “He was just a bit, um, sore. You weren’t the only one who had an enthusiastic reunion.”

“Oh,” Aramis said, surprised. “I had not thought Athos would… That is…”

“Yeah, surprised me a bit, too,” Porthos chuckled. “I know he’s not been rough with the boy before now, least I don’t think he has.”

“You’re sure he was alright?” Aramis asked again unable to stop himself from worrying. 

“I’m sure,” Porthos said. “But we can get dressed and go check on him if that’ll make you feel better.”

“No, that’s alright,” Aramis said quickly. “I do not mean to let my worry for him interfere with my time with you.”

“What are you talking about?” Porthos frowned. “You’re not interfering with anything. I don’t mind that you’re worried about him. I wanna check on him, too, if you want the truth. He’s not… he’s not used to anyone being, well, rough I guess. Not that Athos would’ve done anything to hurt him.”

“No, no, Athos would never do anything to harm him,” Aramis agreed, the knowledge easing his worry some.

“I love you, ‘Mis. And I don’t mind that you missed your boy. I missed Athos, too. You don’t have to hide that from me.”

“I know, my love,” Aramis sighed. “I just do not want you to feel as though I am not making sufficient time for you.”

“Time for me? What are you on about?”

Aramis sighed again and realized he would have to explain himself. “It was something Athos said on the way home, why I had us stop in the glade. He said he was glad to be going home but that he would miss the time alone with me. It made me wonder if you did not, perhaps, feel the same.”

“You think I miss being able to be alone with you?” Porthos asked, wanting to make sure he understood what Aramis was so concerned about. 

“Yes. Athos said it was nice being able to focus on each other exclusively and he was right. If I am not making enough time for you, for us alone, then you need only tell me and I shall rectify it at once.”

“You make plenty of time for me,” Porthos told him. He could see the doubt in his lover’s eyes and pulled him in close. “Tell you what, if I do get to feeling like that, like I need some time for just the two of us, I promise to tell you. Alright?”

“Alright.”  

When Aramis and Porthos entered the kitchen, they found their brothers already there. D'Artagnan was busily working on breakfast, if a bit more slowly than normal. Athos was sitting at the table watching him indulgently. Porthos shook his head as he looked at the younger man. He did not blame him for wanting to take care of Athos, and most likely Aramis as well, now that they were back. He wanted to himself. But he had not quite obviously been fucked through the mattress last night whereas the Whelp had.

Shaking his head again, Porthos gave Aramis a gentle shove toward Athos then went to d'Artagnan. he put his hands on the man's shoulders, stilling him. “I'll finish this,” he said as he turned him away from his preparations. “You go sit with Athos and Aramis.”

“I can...”

“Whelp,” Porthos growled softly, knowing the affect it would likely have. He was not disappointed as d'Artagnan froze. “Aramis hasn't gotten to see you yet. Now be a good lad and go keep him company for me while I finish this.”

D'Artagnan swallowed and nodded, his eyes cutting over to where Aramis sat next to Athos. He felt something squeeze his heart at the sight of the two of them and moved to do as Porthos said. As he neared, the two moved apart making room for him in the middle them. He felt his heart give a lurch at the simple gesture and all but collapsed between them.

“D'Artagnan...” Aramis called out worriedly as his young lover wrapped one arm around him and buried his face against his neck. He saw him reach back toward Athos with the other hand as if unable to bear the thought of him even that far away.

“I am here,” Athos said as he took d'Artagnan's reaching hand in his own and allowed him to pull him close.

“Sorry,” d'Artagnan muttered into Aramis' neck, a shudder running through him.

“Hush now,” Aramis soothed. “You have nothing to apologize for.”

“Listen to Aramis,” Athos added. “We are here. We have you. We are not going anywhere.”

“He alright?” Porthos asked over his shoulder as he finished preparing breakfast for them. He was starting to feel guilty for taking Aramis off like he had. He had not thought he would be this upset.

“He is fine,” Athos replied. “He is simply a bit overwhelmed, I believe. Last night was somewhat intense and being reunited with Aramis is proving equally so.”

“I'm sorry,” Porthos said. “I shouldn't have kept him away all night.”

“Don't,” d'Artagnan said sharply. “Do not apologize for needing to be with him.”

“He is your lover first, Porthos,” Athos put in. “We expect no less from you.”

“Didn't have to keep him away all night, though,” Porthos argued.

“I dare say Aramis would disagree with that,” Athos countered. “And you know his Master will always put his boy's needs before his own.”

“Athos is right, my love,” Aramis said. “I needed you last night and d'Artagnan understands that.”

D'Artagnan forced himself to sit up and put some little distance between himself and Aramis. “I do not begrudge you your time with him, Porthos. I needed Athos as badly as you need Aramis last night. It is as Athos said, I am simply overwhelmed. To have him...to have _them_ home and safe... I did not realize how worried I was until I no longer had cause to be.”

“You were worried?” Aramis asked.

“Every second the three of you are not within my sight, I worry,” d'Artagnan told him truthfully. “I know you were together, that you were safe, but...”

“But you cannot help but worry when we are outside of your protection,” Athos finished.

“Yes,” d'Artagnan nodded. “I do not mean to imply that I do not trust you, do not know you more than capable of looking after yourselves. But if trouble comes for you, I would be there to meet it with you.”

“Even guardians must rest some time, Master.”

“There will be plenty of time to rest when I am dead.”

“Alright, time to eat,” Porthos interrupted before anyone could reply. The conversation had gotten much heavier than they had intended and a change of subject was definitely called for.

Having eaten lightly the night before, all four of them quickly settled into breakfast. Through unspoken agreement, they let the prior conversation drop and instead concentrated on enjoying their meal and the presence of each other. They were just finishing up when they heard the sound of a rider approaching.

The rider turned out to be a delivery boy with a letter from Treville. After assuring Athos that a reply was not expected, the boy rode out leaving the four men alone. Back inside, they gathered in the sitting room. They were nervous and understandably so. They had not had any contact with Treville since the blow-up with Constance over Aramis' rebranding. They had no idea what Treville's missive might hold.

“Well?” Porthos asked once they were seated in their usual places.

Knowing there was no sense putting it off, Athos opened the letter and began to read.

_Boys,_

_I trust all is well with you and apologize for not checking on you sooner. Let me begin by saying that I am sorry for how things went when last I was there. Rest assured, I have explained Constance's error to her and, while she still does not agree with that particular course of action, she recognizes that the choice is not hers to make. For any pain or difficulty she has caused you, she is truly sorry. As am I._

_That being said, I shall get to the purpose of this letter. I have asked Constance for her hand and she has said yes. We plan to wed in three months time and we would both like it very much if you were all there. I know there are likely still hard feelings but please consider it, for an old man's sake if nothing else._

_Lastly, as Constance is residing with me now, her house (your house - she corrected me) remains empty. We would both very much like you to still consider it your home. Let it provide a haven for you in Paris that the manor does elsewhere._

_Know that you are always in our hearts._

_Treville_

Silence descended on the four men once Athos had finished reading the letter. To say they were stunned would be an understatement. Though they had not known what to expect, that certainly was not it. For his part, Athos felt a sense of relief. He had not liked the way things had happened when the Captain and Constance had last been at the manor. After everything that both of them had done for the four of them, this dissent between them felt wrong. Athos would be glad to put it behind them once and for all. He was not sure if the rest of his brothers felt the same, though.

“Well,” Porthos said finally breaking the silence in the room. “I wasn't expecting that.”

“Indeed,” Aramis replied. He glanced at Athos and Porthos and could easily see the tentative hope on their faces. He knew neither of them were comfortable with this matter unresolved between them. He did not blame them. He was not happy about the situation himself. And while he was still hurt by what Constance had said, he recognized that most of it had been her fear for him talking. He, himself, would have little problem swallowing his pride and making amends with the lady. The only real problem was his Master, for one look at d'Artagnan's dark expression told him that he was in no way ready to forgive and forget.

Huffing angrily, d'Artagnan ran a hand through his hair and regarded his three lover's. “I know what it is you all want,” he said, his voice short and clipped even as he struggled to keep it from being. “I... I need more time. I am sorry...”

“If you need more time, then you shall have it,” Aramis interrupted. “I know she angered you greatly when she acted as she did. We do not expect you to simply pretend it did not happen.”

“Thank you, Little One,” d'Artagnan smiled softly. “I know you all wish to put this behind us. I will find a way to, I promise. I am not ignorant of all she and Treville both have done for us. For that reason alone, I would put aside my pride and allow the matter to be forgotten.”

“We understand, Whelp,” Porthos said. “She hurt him. Even if she didn't mean to, she did. You got a right to be angry.”

“Perhaps,” d'Artagnan agreed. “But I will not allow my anger to hurt my family. Just...give me a little more time.”

“Always, love,” Athos promised. 

“Um, since we're all in here, there's something I'd like to talk over with you, Whelp,” Porthos ventured. He took a steadying breath when d'Artagnan gestured for him to go on. He opened his mouth to speak then closed it, unsure how to proceed.

“Would it be easier if I was not here?” Athos asked. He was not used to seeing Porthos struggle with speaking his mind. 

“I do not know of anything that would make this conversation easier,” Porthos huffed out. “And I would have you here for it regardless. I would have your thoughts on it as well.”

“Porthos, whatever you wish to talk to me about, just say it,” d'Artagnan told him. “You know there is nothing you could say to me that would make me turn away from you, do you not?”

“I know that,” Porthos quickly agreed. “But I also know how protective you are of your boy and you've warned me about this once already.”

“Porthos?” D'Artagnan queried, tensing suddenly. 

“That was different,” Aramis said softly. 

“Perhaps it would be best if you simply said whatever it is,” Athos suggested. “And know that we will listen to you and hear you out before making any judgment.”

“Alright, brother,” Porthos said. “Last night when Aramis and I were together I did something and Aramis' reaction was, well, different than I expected it to be.”

“What is it you did?” Athos asked. He could see how hard Porthos was struggling with this and was starting to get worried himself. 

“I spanked him,” Porthos whispered, his voice barely audible. 

“Why?” D'Artagnan demanded hotly then paused. He held his hand up, halting his brother's reply. He took a deep, calming breath then another before speaking again, this time much gentler. “I'm sorry. I did not mean to react like that. Can you tell me why you would do such a thing, though?”

“It...it was an accident,” Porthos said quickly. “I had been teasing him and then I swatted him on the rear. It wasn't really hard or anything but...”

“But he reacted to it in a way you were not expecting,” d'Artagnan filled in. 

“He...he moaned,” Porthos said. “And it wasn't from pain. He wanted it, wanted it from _me_ , and I... I...”

“You found that you wanted to give it to him as badly as he wanted you to?” Athos offered.

“Yeah. But I told him I had to talk to you first. I remember what you said before about putting my hands on him like that.”

“As Aramis said, that was different,” d'Artagnan replied, knowing what Porthos was referring to. “You were not disciplining him. He was not genuinely trying to get away. You did not frighten him. If this is something you both want...” 

D'Artagnan looked away then, unable to say the words. He had no true objection to Porthos giving this to Aramis, especially since it would only be play between them. Porthos would not be disciplining Aramis, he would not be hurting him, at least no more than Aramis wanted, would find titillating. It was still hard for him to get the words out. He did not know why exactly, but he knew himself well enough to recognize when fear was holding him back.

“Master?” Aramis called gently, noting the warring emotions that passed over his face even has he tried to hide them.

“It's alright,” d'Artagnan swallowed. “If this is something you both want then I will not stand in your way. I would like to speak to Aramis alone, if that is alright with you.”

“Of course,” Porthos said, eyeing d'Artagnan. He could tell something was bothering the boy. He hoped it was only the shock of him wanting to do such a thing after all the fuss he had made about it. He had a feeling there was more to it than that, though, and worried.

Porthos and Athos watched, both feeling somewhat helpless, as d'Artagnan stood then took Aramis' hand and led him from the room. “It will be alright,” Athos said after the pair had disappeared down the hall presumably to one of the bedrooms where they could talk undisturbed. 

“I knew the Whelp wasn't going to be thrilled about it,” Porthos said. “I mean, he made it pretty fucking clear when we spanked him the last time that he wouldn't stand for anyone other than him doing that.”

“That was different, as they have both said. That was Aramis being punished for something. What you speak of now would be an act of lovemaking between you.”

“Yeah, okay,” Porthos agreed. There was a difference and he did recognize that. “What about you, brother? How do you feel about it? I know you've said you don't like the idea of him being hit for any reason. You've accepted it as necessary for Aramis' own peace of mind but this...”

“I will not sit here and tell you I like it,” Athos began. “But I will not object to it, either. He has as much right as any of us to have his desires fulfilled. As do you. If this is one of those, on either of your parts, then I will not stand in the way of it.”

“Thank you,” Porthos said gratefully. He did not like the idea of hurting any of them. This would be so much harder if he knew it was causing his lovers stress.

Athos shook his head and took Porthos' hand. He tugged the other man close and soon found himself wrapped in a pair of strong arms. “So what did you think of Treville's letter?”

“It's a relief,” Porthos said. “I was wondering what we were going to do when we returned to Paris. And this rift with the Captain, it doesn't feel right. Not after everything.”

“Agreed. I would see us all make amends and move past this.”

“Well, I know Aramis wants to. He misses her, even if she did hurt him pretty bad. The Whelp, though...”

“No,” Athos said evenly. “He said as much and he meant it. It will be some time before he is ready to even attempt to put this behind them. We shall simply have to be patient. He will get there eventually.”

While Athos and Porthos talked in the sitting room, d'Artagnan led Aramis to their shared bedroom. He closed the door firmly behind them and sat down on the bed, pulling Aramis down beside him. He wrapped his arm around him and held him close, letting the scent and feel of him comfort him as they always did.

“Master?” Aramis whispered after a few minutes of simply sitting together silently.

“I have questions for you,” d'Artagnan began. “I would know more of this, if you do not mind telling me.”

“I will tell you anything you wish to know.”

“You do not have to,” d'Artagnan told him, needing him to know that his capitulation in this was not required. “I have already said I will not deny you this.”

“I know,” Aramis replied softly. “I also know you have serious reservations about it. I would ease those if I am able.”

“Will you tell me why you want this?” D'Artagnan asked. It was the first question that had occurred to him and the one that overrode all others. _Why?_

“You know that I like some small degree of pain at times,” Aramis explained carefully. “I have always enjoyed being spanked when it was not being done as a punishment of some sort. I... I enjoy it, Master.”

“Alright,” d'Artagnan said. “Fair enough. You know I like an edge of pain myself at times. There is nothing wrong with that. I would not have him discipline you, though. If you are to be punished for something, that will be at my hand alone. Are we agreed on this?”

“Of course, Master,” Aramis replied. “I dare say Porthos would not be able to bring himself to punish me in such a way.”

“He did before,” d'Artagnan said, his voice quiet but the hint of true anger in it easy to hear.

“You know why that was,” Aramis soothed. “And I assure you, he did not enjoy it in the least. He could not enjoy something he knew was distressing me in some way. He can do this only because he knows I want it, that I find pleasure in it. If that were not the case, he would not even consider it.”

“Very well then,” d'Artagnan said, his arm tightening around Aramis without thought as he forced down the worst of his misgivings. It was not that he did not trust Porthos for he did. But he was new to this and d'Artagnan worried that he might not recognize certain signs in Aramis. And if he was being honest with himself, some small, petty part of him worried about suddenly finding himself replaced.

“What are you not saying?” Aramis asked, recognizing that d'Artagnan was holding something back and something serious at that.

“It is nothing.”

“Please, Master,” Aramis pled. “I cannot do this if I am worried that it will hurt you in some way.”

D'Artagnan sighed and kissed Aramis on the temple. “I worry because he is new to this. He does not know what to watch for where you are concerned. I worry he might go too far and actually hurt you without meaning to and that would devastate Porthos.”

“Oh. Yes, you are right. I am not sure what to do about it, though.”

“Do you...that is...do you think he would mind my presence overly much?” D'Artagnan managed to ask. “I do not mean to pry or infringe upon something that is meant to be for the two of you.”

“I will ask him,” Aramis said quickly. “I do not think he will mind it. In truth, I think he will feel relieved to know that you are there to keep an eye on things, as it were. Now tell me what else is bothering you about this.”

“There is nothing else,” d'Artagnan said. At Aramis' incredulous look he amended it. “There is nothing else you need concern yourself with.”

“I will always be concerned with you. Please tell me what it is that has you so bothered still.”

“It is stupid,” d'Artagnan huffed, pulling back from Aramis. 

“Let me be the judge of that.”

D'Artagnan looked at his lover, taking in the stubborn set to his shoulders. He was not going to let this go, that much was clear. “I am worried. I am worried that, if Porthos suddenly becomes able to meet this need in you, that you will no longer need me.”

Aramis stared at him for long seconds. He took in the dejected way he sat, as if preparing for a hurt he knew was coming. Reaching out, he grasped his Master by the arms and pulled him forcefully against him so he could wrap both of his arms around him.

“You are right,” he said sternly, his mouth right against d'Artagnan's ear. “It is stupid. It is beyond stupid to ever think anyone could replace you as my Master. If this is going to make you doubt me then I will not do it.”

“No,” d'Artagnan said. He tried to move back but Aramis held him firmly refusing to let him. “It is not you I doubt but my own ability to fulfill your needs as they should be.”

“What? That doesn't even make sense.”

“You love Porthos more than life,” d'Artagnan tried to explain. “For him to be able to meet this need in you, to be able to master you... Would not that be so much better than anything I could ever hope to provide you?”

“No,” Aramis practically snarled in his ear. “No, it would not. I bend my neck for you. No other. I may call them Sir when we are playing but you and I both know it is only that, only play. What I have with you, I have never had with any other nor will I ever again. Please, do not doubt that, Master. Porthos... Yes, I love him more than anything in this world, but he could still never replace you.”

They remained in the bedroom a while longer, until d'Artagnan felt steady once more. By the time they came out, enough time had passed that Porthos and Athos both looked at them anxiously. The scrutiny brought back d'Artagnan's earlier self-doubt and he ducked his head, embarrassed to meet his lover's eyes.

“What's wrong?” Porthos asked worriedly. He had known d'Artagnan might not take his request well but had not expected this reaction from him.

“Nothing,” d'Artagnan mumbled as he made a bee line for the kitchen. He did not stop as he headed out the back door and toward the sanctuary of the barn. He knew he was behaving foolishly but he couldn't help it.

Aramis shook his head as he watched their young lover flee. He held up a hand stopping Athos from going after him. He knew d'Artagnan needed a minute to get himself together before facing any of them. “He is alright,” he said sadly.

“Then why did he run?” Porthos growled.

“Because he is being an idiot and doesn't care to hear us tell him so,” Aramis sighed. “And because he is embarrassed.”

“Care to explain?” Athos asked, the boredom in his voice betrayed by the stiffness of his body.

“In short, he is afraid of losing his place.”

“Losing his place?” Porthos repeated.

“As my Master,” Aramis explained, flinching at the pain those words invoked.

“Ah,” Athos said, understanding. “I had not thought of that.”

“He thinks I'm gonna take his place?” Porthos nearly shouted. “I thinks I bloody _could_?”

“He thinks I would find kneeling to you infinitely more fulfilling.”

“He's an idiot,” Porthos spat.

“I told him as much, yes.”

“Did he not believe you?” Athos asked.

“I think he did,” Aramis replied.

“But fear can be difficult to break free of,” Athos said wearily. “As always with our youngest, time and patience will see him through.”

“There is one other thing,” Aramis ventured hesitantly.

“What?” Porthos asked almost afraid to know.

“He would like to be there...when you do it,” Aramis said surprised to find himself blushing. “He knows you do not have much experience in this and would save us a misstep if he could. If you are opposed to the idea, however, he will understand.”

Porthos sat, stunned. He had not even expected d'Artagnan to say yes let alone wish to be present for it. Part of him did not want him there, did not like the idea at all. The rest of him knew the lad was only looking out for Aramis as he always did. “I cannot say that it will not make it harder for me. But I know that it will be safer for you with him there.”

“You lot worry about me entirely too much,” Aramis complained, though he was grinning self-consciously as he did so.

“Not possible,” Athos said then stood. “Now, if you gentlemen will excuse me, I have a lover to go find.”

“I'd start with the barn,” Porthos said as Athos headed toward the back door. Once they were alone, Porthos regarded his lover seriously. “If this is going to cause a problem between you and your Master...”

“No,” Aramis said, smiling softly at him. “He is insecure and perhaps, this time, he has some right to be. We will teach him otherwise. We will teach him that finding this with you need not cost me what I already have with him.”

&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M

Athos paused at the door to the barn and watched his lover. The younger man's hands moved over the horse he was brushing by rote, the moves as practiced and easy as any Athos executed with a sword. He could tell, as he continued to watch, that d'Artagnan was lost in his thoughts. He was so lost, in fact, that Athos doubted if he even realized he was being watched. A dangerous state for a Musketeer to be in, even out here.

“I know you are there,” d'Artagnan said a moment later earning a chuckle from Athos.

“My apologies for doubting you, love,” Athos said as he walked into the barn. “I was not aware you had taken up mind reading while I was away.”

“Don't need it,” d'Artagnan said, grinning as he set down the brush and turned to his lover. “Not with how loud you think.”

“Oh really?” Athos said arching an eyebrow at him.

“Really,” he grinned back even wider.

“Feeling better then?”

“Somewhat. Steadier at least,” d'Artagnan replied.

“You know you have nothing to worry about,” Athos said as he pulled him close. “Nor be embarrassed about either. We understand your fear, as unfounded as it is.”

D'Artagnan sighed and relaxed into Athos' embrace, taking comfort in it as he always did. He knew Athos was right but it was hard to quiet that voice inside of him, the one that spoke of no longer being needed, of being replaced. “Thank you,” he said after a few minutes.

“You are welcome, though I am unsure what you are thanking me for.”

“For putting up with me,” d'Artagnan said. “I know I can be...taxing at times yet you never lose patience with me. None of you do.”

“We love you, d'Artagnan. We will be as patient with you as need be. Do you know why?”

“No,” the younger man shook his head. It was one thing he had never really understood, how they could continue to be patient with him and his reluctance to trust for so long.

“Because you are more than worth the effort.”

D'Artagnan went still at Athos' words. He felt emotions well up in his throat and had to swallow to keep them inside. Before these men, the only person in his life to tell him such a thing had been his father. That these men, who he admired and respected above all others, thought him worth such effort was enough to nearly bring him to his knees and he clung to Athos desperately.

“D'Artagnan... Love,” Athos said, alarmed when the man went still then hugged him tight.

“Sorry,” d'Artagnan mumbled against his shoulder.

“Now what did I just say about being embarrassed?” Athos chided gently. “I did not mean to upset you though.”

“You didn't,” he said quickly. “It's just...”

“Just what?”

“Besides my father, no one has ever felt me worth the effort before,” he said softly, his voice so low Athos had to strain to hear him even in the quiet barn.

“Then they were fools,” Athos replied as he tightened his grip around his lover. “Every one of them who looked at you and failed to see your worth was a fool and wholly undeserving of your attention.”

D'Artagnan leaned back so he could see Athos' face and smiled. “You always saw me, though. You and Porthos and Aramis. You always thought me worth...something.”

“We always thought you worth everything,” Athos corrected.

They stayed in the barn a little longer allowing d'Artagnan to compose himself before heading back inside. He knew he still needed to talk to Porthos both to reassure the man as well as speak to him about observing when the time came. He wanted to make sure he understood that it was only his inexperience that he did not trust and not the man himself. Once he was satisfied that the pair would be safe, he would step back and allow them to comport themselves as they would.

“You are not losing him,” Athos whispered as they entered the back door. All of d'Artagnan's fears were written across his face and it pained Athos to see them.

“I know,” d'Artagnan replied though it was sorely lacking in conviction.

“You do not,” Athos countered. “But we will keep telling you until you do.”

Back in the sitting room, Porthos and Aramis were still on the divan. Both men eyed the pair nervously when they came in and Athos tipped his head knowing his brothers would understand it as the half-hearted reassurance it was meant to be. He saw d'Artagnan smile softly at the pair then turn toward the chair. Before the younger man could take more than half a step toward it, Athos' hand shot out gripping his arm roughly.

“Try to distance yourself from us right now and I will smash that chair to kindling,” Athos warned.

D'Artagnan had the good graces to duck his head apologetically, blushing slightly at the rebuke. “Sorry,” he said. “Habit.”

“One we _shall_ be breaking you of,” Athos vowed.

“Whelp, if this is gonna cause a problem,” Porthos began.

“It's not,” d'Artagnan cut him off. “I'm being exceedingly foolish. I know this, yet I find myself unable to stop entirely. Be patient with me, brother.”

“Always,” Porthos promised at once.

D'Artagnan sat down on the divan, taking the end Porthos normally did so he and Aramis could stay where they were and, if he was being completely honest with himself, so he could be somewhat removed from them for the coming conversation. It was not that he wanted to distance himself, but he needed to be able to think rather than react. 

“I do need to speak with you about what it is you wish to do,” he began. “I have told Aramis I will not object. I would never deny either of you something you wished.”

“I know that,” Porthos said. “But I don't want to do this if it's gonna hurt you.”

“Do not concern yourself with me,” he said dismissively.

“Boy...” Porthos growled.

“Not in this, Porthos,” d'Artagnan insisted. “You will let me give this to you. You will help me give this to you.”

“D'Artagnan...” Aramis called softly not caring for the way this was sounding. This was not supposed to be costing his Master something.

“Please,” d'Artagnan whispered, closing his eyes for a moment as he did so.

“Alright, Whelp,” Porthos relented. “But if it gets to be too much you damn well say so.”

D'Artagnan nodded, relieved that they were no longer fighting him on it. Now came the hard part. “There is something I would ask of you, though. And while you may not wish to do so, I ask that you consider my request for Aramis' sake if nothing else.”

“This about you wanting to be there when it happens?” Porthos asked.

“Yes.”

“Can't say that it doesn't make me a bit nervous to have everybody watching but I understand why. I don't want him to get hurt either.”

“It will only be d'Artagnan, brother,” Athos said having picked up on Porthos' reference to everybody.

“What? You think we're going to leave you out of it?” Porthos asked. “Unless you don't want to be there...”

“No,” Athos said quickly. “It is not that.”

“Well alright then.”

They talked awhile longer, the four of them enjoying each other's company as they always did. Aramis and Athos told them of their trip, of speaking with the parents of the girls. Aramis' composure had slipped a bit when he spoke of their meeting with Estelle's parents.

“I pray that the knowledge will bring them some closure and allow them to move on,” Aramis said, his eyes glittering with unshed tears. “No parent should have to bury their child. It is obscene.”

“Easy, love,” Porthos soothed, wrapping his arms around him and just holding him.

They quickly changed the subject, talking of inconsequential things until Athos finally brought up Treville's letter. “I don't think he's pressuring us to return but rather letting us know it is an option when we do feel ready.”

“I suppose I will have to show my face sometime,” Aramis said, his hand unconsciously going to the twin scars on his cheek.

“You have to do nothing you do not wish to,” d'Artagnan said fiercely. “But you have nothing to be ashamed of.”

“I doubt everyone will agree with you,” Aramis quipped.

“They will if they know what's good for them.”

Dinner that night was a quiet affair. All of them were simply happy to be together again, safe and whole. The separation had not been a long one, less than a week, but it had been long enough. Though all of them were more thoughtful than normal, Athos seemed particularly reticent.

“What is it, brother?” Porthos asked. He had watched the way his eyes studied their youngest as if trying to figure something out.

Athos sighed and shook his head. He should have known better than to try to keep something from these men, especially Porthos. “I am disconcerted that d'Artagnan fears for his place as Aramis' Master,” he said honestly.

D'Artagnan winced at the blunt reply but kept his head up and turned to meet Athos' gaze. “I know I am being ridiculous,” he said carefully. “But part of me cannot help but think he would be much better served with Pothos in that position and the Master in me will always look to his well-being first.”

“That's got nothing to do with you being his Master, lad,” Porthos said, squeezing his shoulder. “You love him so you put him first. You put all of us first. But you're wrong if you think I could ever take your place. I could never be what you are to him. I wouldn't even try.”

“I think perhaps these two need some time alone together,” Athos suggested.

“No,” d'Artagnan protested. “Porthos...”

“Already had my reunion,” Porthos said. “At least with Aramis anyway.”

“I have missed you, Master,” Aramis said softly when d'Artagnan opened his mouth to argue more.

D'Artagnan closed his mouth and nodded, no more able to deny such a blatant request from Aramis than he would be from any of his brothers really. If Aramis needed him this night he would be there in whatever way was requested of him. Perhaps, come the morning, there would be time enough for him to make a request of his own.

“If you do not wish...” Aramis began suddenly worried they were bullying him into something he may not want.

“I always want you,” d'Artagnan smiled. “Of that you need never worry.”

“Then let me serve you, Master,” Aramis said as he rose and moved to stand in front of d'Artagnan. He slid to his knees then, his eyes on the other man's. “Let me be for your use this night.”

“Only this night?” D'Artagnan asked teasingly as he slid his hand into Aramis' hair and cradled his skull.

“For as long as you say,” Aramis moaned, the feelings singing through him. “As long as you wish.”

“Shh. Easy, love,” d'Artagnan said as he leaned forward to place a single kiss to Aramis' lips. He stroked his face with his free hand, letting his thumb trail over the scars on his cheek. “Will you crawl for me, love? Will you show me that you still belong to me?”

Aramis gasped at the question, his eyes prickling. He turned his head and placed a kiss to his Master's palm then slowly pulled away to drop down to his hands and knees. He resisted the urge to look back to see if he was watching. Instead, he lowered his head and began to crawl toward what he had come to think of as their room.

D'Artagnan watched him go, holding himself back for the moment. Aramis in his submission was always a sight to behold and this was no different. He wanted to enjoy it while he could still think clearly enough to. “Is there anything I need to know?” He asked, his eyes never leaving Aramis' retreating form. “I know your reunion was rather enthusiastic.”

“No,” Porthos chuckled. “I was a bit rough with him but I've been rougher. He's probably sore it he's not hurt or anything.”

With that, d'Artagnan bid his brothers goodnight and hurried after his lover. When he got to their room, he found him kneeling in the middle of the floor, his head bowed. For long seconds d'Artagnan simply stood and watched him, admiring the way he held himself still even though he knew his Master was there. D'Artagnan knew he would have found it difficult, if not impossible, to do so under such scrutiny.

“Have I told you lately what an absolute wonder you are?” D'Artagnan asked as he closed the distance between them. He stood behind Aramis and carded his fingers through his silky hair, enjoying the feel of it.

“Oh,” Aramis moaned, a shiver running through him at the touch of his Master's hand.

“You are an endless source of joy to me,” d'Artagnan continued. He was not surprised when he felt Aramis' shaking intensify. “You lighten my heart in a way no one else does. No one, Little One. Athos may be my soul mate, but I would wither and die without you.”

“Master, please!” Little One cried out unable to listen to any more. Not without being able to express his own feelings in return. He had no idea he still meant so much to his Master and for him to think that any other, even Porthos, could take his place...hurt.

D'Artagnan dropped to his knees behind Aramis at once and wrapped his arms around him. “I'm here,” he soothed as he held him. He had not meant to upset him. He only wanted him to know how very much he cherished him. He would always cherish him, until his dying day, and he needed him to know that.

“Oh Maser, how can you not see?” Little One nearly sobbed. “You give me so much...so much that no one ever has before. I have found more peace with you than I ever dreamed possible. You have healed things in me that have been broken so long. 

"You think Porthos would be a better choice for me in this, but you are wrong. For in all our years together, Porthos never managed to heal a single of these wounds. And you will say I did not show him them but I did not show them to you either and it did not stop you from healing them. It did not stop you from healing me to the the point where I could show you. You gave me my _respect_ back, Master. And you did that while I still called you d'Artagnan.”

“My Little One,” d'Artagnan whispered as he turned his lover around so they were kneeling facing each other. He kissed him on his eyelids, his cheeks, his lips as he continued to speak. “My precious, perfect Little One. I love you so much. You are everything to me. So good. So strong. So beautiful.”

“Master, please,” Little One gasped, his Master's words setting him on fire. “Let me serve you.”

D'Artagnan pulled him close and kissed him hungrily, moaning at the taste and feel of his Little One. He felt the other man give himself to the kiss, surrendering to him completely. That only fueled the fire for d'Artagnan as his kiss turned from hungry to possessive in an instant. He wound one hand in Aramis' hair, holding his head in place as his other arm wrapped around his waist, pulling him flush against him. Breaking away from his mouth, he kissed his way across his face, stopping to lave and suckle at his scarred cheek.

Aramis moaned helplessly when his Master began to lick and suck at his scars. He had to grab onto the man's arms to keep from collapsing completely, he was so overwhelmed. It always affected him when any of his lover's touched his scars, but with his Master it was so much more intense. Every time he touched him like this it was as if he was reclaiming him as his own, reclaiming those horrible marks as his own. It sent desire slamming through him and made him want to throw himself at his Master's feet and stay there forever.

D'Artagnan could feel his lover shaking, the fine tremors of before increasing dramatically. Not wanting to completely overwhelm him just yet, he placed a last sucking kiss to his cheek and began to work his way down his neck until he came to his collar. Moaning softly, d'Artagnan began to kiss and nip all around the leather band. He could smell Aramis' scent mixed with that of the leather, the taste of his sweat embedded in it. It made his cock harden as he lapped at it, running his tongue beneath its supple underside and relishing the taste. Without warning, he nosed the leather band aside and bit down hard on the newly bared expanse of skin. He felt Aramis jerk and stiffen but he held him in place as he dug his teeth in, intent on leaving a mark no one could not take off. A moment later he was rewarded as Aramis relaxed against him, submitting to his Master's claiming mark.

By the time d'Artagnan pulled back from his neck, Aramis was shaking so hard he was surprised his teeth weren't chattering. His entire body felt like it was afire, as if he were a lit fuse, sizzling and hissing as he burned. His neck throbbed in time with his pulse where his Master had bitten him and he barely resisted the urge to reach up and touch it. He knew the press of his collar against it would be a constant reminder of this, of his Master, of his _place_ , and he shivered even harder at the thought of it. It was on the tip of his tongue to ask his Master, to beg him, to do the same to his face, his _scars_ , but he held back knowing he could not.

“I know, Little One,” d'Artagnan said as he cupped his scarred cheek. “But the others would never understand.”

“I know, Master,” Aramis agreed. “It is enough to know you would if it would not hurt our brothers too much.”

“There is nothing you cannot ask of me, Little One,” d'Artagnan told him. He kissed him again then letting his thumb press on the bite on his neck. Aramis moaned into his mouth when he did and d'Artagnan pressed his hardness against him, letting him feel how aroused he was.

“How do you want me?” Little One panted when d'Artagnan finally broke their kiss. His own cock was aching in his breeches but he did not care. He was for his Master's use. His Master's pleasure was all that mattered to him.

“I want you spread out on your back wearing nothing but your collar and the cuffs,” d'Artagnan ordered.

D'Artagnan watched, entranced, as Aramis moved as quickly as his somewhat overwrought body would allow. He stayed close at hand, not liking how unsteady Aramis was. Once his lover was resting naked on the bed, he quickly stripped off his own clothes and climbed in beside him. Taking Aramis' cuffed wrists, he raised his arms and bound them to the head of the bed, effectively immobilizing him.

“Comfortable?” D'Artagnan asked once he was restrained.

“Yes, Master,” Aramis replied.

“Good,” d'Artagnan smiled. “Because now I intend to lay worship to you.”

“But... I am supposed to be serving you.”

“You are. What I want most of all right now is your pleasure. Will you give me that?”

Aramis sucked in a breath at his Master's words. The look in his eyes spoke of their honesty and something down deep in Aramis seemed to settle. “I am yours, Master. There is no part of me I would deny you.”

“Oh my Little One, always so good for me,” d'Artagnan praised bringing a faint blush to his lover's cheeks. He stretched out beside him and began by slowly kissing him. It was somewhat awkward with Aramis' arms over his head but he managed. Once he had kissed Aramis breathless again, he moved onto his hands and knees above him pulling a gasp of equal parts surprise and arousal from the man. He leaned down and kissed him again, pleased with the access his knew vantage point gave him. He was so pleased, in fact, that he lay down atop his lover, giving the man no choice but to bear his weight as he pinned him to the bed. As he continued to kiss him, he ground his hard cock into his hip, wanting him to feel it. He could feel Aramis' own hardness pressing into him in return and it only made him want him more. 

As he pushed himself back up onto his hands and knees, breaking their kiss, he let his hand stray to Aramis' neck. Wrapping his fingers around his collar, he squeezed, digging the leather into the bite he had left behind and making Aramis buck his hips as he cried out. “So beautiful,” d'Artagnan murmured as he released his neck. He sat back, his buttocks resting on Aramis' thighs, pinning him in place even more.

“Master,” Little One croaked, emotion choking him.

“Tell me you are mine, Little One,” d'Artagnan said, his voice close to pleading.

“I am yours, Master,” Little One said at once, the words as sure and strong as he could make them.

Satisfied for now, d'Artagnan leaned down and began worshipping his Little One's body with lips and tongue. In no time his boy was writhing beneath him, gasping and arching as much as his restraints would allow. He could feel his Little One's cock swelling as it brushed against his stomach and he redoubled his efforts, determined to make him spend like this before moving on. A few short minutes later, he got his wish as Aramis cried out and began to jerk beneath him, spending hard between them.

“Perfect,” d'Artagnan whispered in his ear once he had come back to himself.

Aramis lay there, dazed, staring at his Master. His release was still flowing through him making it hard to think. He knew his Master was pleased with him though and that knowledge helped him remain in that warm, safe place that only d'Artagnan seemed able to take him to. He watched, unable to do much else, as his Master wiped him off then spread his legs and settled back between them.

“Have you come back down some?” D'Artagnan asked as he stroked his thighs idly, waiting.

“Master?” Aramis queried, not quite understanding, the pleasant fog in his head clouding his thoughts somewhat.

“I'm not finished with you yet, Precious,” d'Artagnan smiled. “But I don't know if you're still too sensitive for me to continue.”

“I am yours, Master.”

“I don't want to hurt you, Little One. Not now. Not like this.”

“Oh,” Little One grinned at him. “Perhaps...go slowly at first?”

“Alright. You will tell me if it is too much.”

“Yes, Master.”

D'Artagnan spread his legs wide and slid down the bed so his face was level with Aramis' groin. Deciding to start slowly, he turned his head and licked a stripe up one thigh, stopping just below the crease of his leg. He did the same to the other thigh and was gratified by the soft moan of pleasure he pulled from him. Carefully, he nuzzled at his bollocks, pulling first one then the other into his mouth. When he released them, he blew gently and was pleased to see them draw up.

“Master,” Aramis gasped, the feel of his hot breath blowing across his wet bollocks making him ache inside. He knew it was much too soon for his cock to harden again but that did not mean his body would not try.

“Look at you,” d'Artagnan marveled. “Already you try to please me. You are so good to me, Little One. I could not ask for a better boy.”

Aramis basked in his Master's praise. He tugged ineffectually at his bonds wishing he could touch him. That wasn't what his Master wanted though and that realization caused him to quickly settle and return to basking in his Master's affections. The tiny sliver of his mind that was still rational knew he would need to give some thought to this. He had never really had a praise kink as it were but there was something about the way his Master praised him that affected him...differently.

“Little One, what's is it?” D'Artagnan asked. He could see that he was focused on something - something that was not him.

“Ah, nothing, Master,” Aramis replied sheepishly. “I fear I may have gotten lost in my head for a moment. Thank you for bringing me back.”

“Always, Little One. Do we need to stop?”

“Oh, no,” Aramis said quickly.

“Good,” d'Artagnan grinned wickedly. “I haven't had a chance to taste you yet after all.”

“Ta-taste me?” Aramis stammered, flushing hotly at the thought of what all that could mean.

“Mm. Yes. Athos got to after all,” d'Artagnan replied. “Tell me, has Porthos had you that way as well? Surely he must have.”

“Yes,” Aramis replied. He felt his face go hot in unexpected embarrassment as he recalled the fact that just last night Porthos had done that very thing.

“You look so young when you do that,” d'Artagnan said, his voice soft and gentle. “Younger even than me. It makes me worry sometimes...”

“I am still me, love,” Aramis said, touched by his concern.

“I know. Thank you for reminding me. Now, tell me what it is that made you color so prettily.”

“I...it...” Aramis stuttered then stopped. He took a breath and began again. “Just last night. Porthos had me that way before he fucked me.”

“Did he now?” D'Artagnan chuckled easily imagining the scene. “Did he enjoy the taste of Athos' spend inside of you? I know I would.”

Aramis gasped as lust raced throughout him. His spent cock twitched at the thought of his Master between his legs licking another man's spend from his hole. He knew he would find it utterly debasing. Not the act itself but the fact that it was his Master cleaning another's seed from him, especially like that. The only thing possibly worse would be if their positions were reversed.

“Little One?” D'Artagnan called a hint of worry in his voice. He had felt his boy go still beneath him at his words and didn't know if that was a good sign a good or a bad one. “Is it too much?”

“No, Master,” Aramis managed breathlessly. “The thought...of that...”

“You like it.”

“It would be mortifying...disgraceful...to have my Master debase himself so, especially for me.”

“Hmm… Yet, you still like it,” d’Artagnan said, looking him over. “But that is a talk for another time. Right now, I wish to taste you.” With no more than that, d’Artagnan ducked his head and licked across his bollocks once more. He grinned to himself at the startled yelp that Aramis gave then began licking his way downward, toward his lover’s hole.

Aramis keened at the first touch of his Master’s tongue against him there. He was incredibly sensitive after just spending himself, not to mention the hard fucking Porthos had given him just the night before. Not that he was complaining. Far from it. He was for his Master’s use and would gladly serve him in any way he wished. 

D’Artagnan licked around Aramis’ hole as lightly as he could. He could feel the man starting to shake and pulled back. He slid his hands under his thighs and pushed his legs up and back, baring him to him fully. He blew softly across his hole and heard Aramis suck in a shocked breath. Leaning back down, he began to lap at his hole again, letting his tongue trace all around the outside of it, not trying to breech him just yet. 

“Master… Master…” Aramis moaned, thrashing his head. His Master had spread him wide and was doing wicked things to him, driving him nearly insensate with pleasure and still he craved.

“What is it?” d’Artagnan asked, sensing there was something his Little One, his Boy, was not saying.

“Bite me,” Aramis whispered, fisting his hands in the sheets. “Please, Master, bite me again.”

“Where?” d’Artagnan asked, unable to resist such a plea.

“Anywhere,” Aramis said at once. “My thigh, my _cock_ , anywhere. I want to wear your mark.”

D’Artagnan hesitated for a moment, stunned by the depth of his lover’s desire for this act. A moment later, he tightened his grip on Aramis’ right leg and brought his mouth to his thigh. He bit down hard, high up on it, near where leg met groin. His lover would feel it for days no matter what he was doing and anyone who lay with him would see it.

Aramis cried out loudly when he felt his Master’s teeth sink into the tender flesh of his thigh. He tried to jerk away out of reflex, but d’Artagnan held him firmly in place, making him take his Master’s mark. By the time d’Artagnan released him, Aramis was panting as tears gathered in his eyes. He could feel the mark on his leg throb and he keened softly at the knowledge of it.

“Does my Little One like that?” d’Artagnan asked him as he gave him time to collect himself. “Does he like wearing his Master’s marks upon his body for all to see?”

“Yes, Master,” Aramis gasped. “I would… would have you cover me in them…”

“Little One,” d’Artagnan moaned, gripping him tightly. His words had sent a hot flush of desire through him, rousing the possessiveness within him to new heights and he had to ruthlessly quash it lest he do something one of them might regret.

“I am yours, Master,” Aramis said again. He looked at his Master through wide, wet eyes and felt himself sink down once more at the open adoration coupled with no small amount of possessiveness he saw reflected back at him.

“And I am yours,” d’Artagnan replied. He studied the other man, noting his returning arousal but his exhaustion as well. He had planned to make him spend again but was rethinking that now, unsure if his Little One was actually up to it.

“Master?” Aramis queried when d’Artagnan only looked at him.

“Tell me, Little One, do you think yourself capable of spending again? Be honest now. I will not be upset with your answer either way.”

Aramis thought for a moment then shook his head. “As much as I would like to, Master, I do not think I can. I am sorry.”

“None of that,” d’Artagnan said. He leaned down and swiped his tongue across Aramis’ hole one last time, pleased with the groan of pleasure it elicited, then he let his legs down carefully and moved back up beside him. 

The restraints were quickly removed and d’Artagnan rolled onto this back, pulling Aramis with him so that the man lay half upon him, his head pillowed on his shoulder. He kissed his forehead then and wrapped his arm around him tightly. 

“Master? What about you?” Aramis asked when it suddenly occurred to him that his Master had not spent.

“I am fine,” d’Artagnan told him. “We can see about me in the morning if you wish. For now, get some rest.”

&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M

Not long after bidding d’Artagnan goodnight, Athos and Porthos retired as well. Porthos had been telling the truth when he said he’d had his reunion with Aramis and wished to welcome Athos home as well now. The door had no more than closed behind them before Porthos was taking Athos by the arm and pulling him close, burying his face in the side of his neck so he could breathe in the man’s scent.

“I am here, brother,” Athos said softly as he held Porthos back. It felt good to feel those strong arms around him once more. He had cherished his time with Aramis for certain but he had missed his brothers, too.

“Tell me what you want,” Porthos whispered as they held each other. “You never ask for anything for yourself. Let me make it good for you tonight.”

“It is always good for me, love,” Athos told him, smiling softly though Porthos could not see it.

“Please.”

“Very well,” Athos relented. He could not stand to hear Porthos beg for anything. Of all of them, he was the one he simply could not endure to hear such things from. “If you do not mind, I would very much like to take you in my mouth. You… you never let me do that with you and I would like to again.”

“Are you sure?” Porthos asked a trifle anxiously. “I’m big, love. I don’t want to choke you or anything.”

“If it gets to be too much, we can do something else, but I would very much like to lie with you this way.”

“Alright,” Porthos said, the thought of feeling Athos’ mouth on him again making it hard to think of much else. “But I want to suck you, too.”

They stripped down quickly and arranged themselves on the bed on their sides, facing each other. Athos had suggested one of them being on top of the other, but Porthos wanted them to have more control than that. He really was concerned about choking Athos and did not want their reunion to be something that brought him discomfort.

Porthos waited and let Athos situate himself first. He bit his lip to stifle a groan when the man wrapped his hand around his hard cock. When Athos touched the head to his lips, though, Porthos was unable to hold it in, the sight alone enough to make his bollocks tighten. Then Athos was opening his mouth and taking the head of his cock inside and Porthos had to grip the reins of his control with both hands to keep from thrusting into that tight, wet heat.

Athos could not help but moan at the first taste of Porthos. He so rarely got to taste him like this and he relished it. He could understand Porthos’ trepidation, just the head of his cock was enough to fill his mouth, and Athos knew he would not be able to take much of him in at all. From the way his lover had gone stock-still beneath him, he did not think that would matter overmuch.

Athos had just managed to establish some sort of rhythm when he felt Porthos’ hand wrap around his cock. He moaned loudly at the touch causing Porthos to moan as well and tighten his grip. In an instant, he felt Porthos’ breath ghost across his own hard cock then a hot, wet mouth was engulfing him causing him to cry out again.

Porthos gave an abortive thrust of his hips, barely stopping himself from shoving into Athos’ mouth hard when he all but screamed on his cock. It took them a minute or two to establish a rhythm where they could suck and be sucked without losing control. Once they did, both men gave themselves to it, sucking and laving the other’s cock, giving whatever pleasure they could. 

Unsurprisingly, Porthos was the first to spend. The rarity of having Athos’ mouth on him, coupled with the feel and taste of him in his own mouth was more than he could hold out against. He tried to warn him, reaching down with his free hand to tug on his hair, but Athos blithely ignored him and sucked him in even deeper.

Porthos groaned loudly as he thrust forward once and began to spend in Athos’ mouth. He had tried to hold still but had been unable to. Once he was spent, he pulled his softening member from Athos’ mouth and concentrated on bringing the other man off. 

Athos lay panting, the taste of Porthos’ spend still on his tongue when the man began taking him in to the root, sucking his cock hard and fast in an attempt to make him spend. In the blink of an eye, he went from aroused to on the brink of release and when Porthos brought his hand up to roll his bollocks, Athos was lost. With a surprised shout, he thrust forward hard and began to spend. He had not even had a chance to warn Porthos, his release taking him completely off guard. 

Porthos waited until he was sure Athos was finished before pulling back and placing a kiss to the head of his softening cock. He rolled over on his back then, panting himself from both his own release and the strength of his lover’s. 

“Get up here,” Porthos said to Athos, reaching down and tugging on the man’s arm. It took them a little bit but they were soon settled comfortably together. Sleep took them soon after.


	3. Chapter 3

D'Artagnan awoke to the feel of something tickling his nose. When he opened his eyes, he realized it was Aramis' hair and grinned. His lover was still fast asleep on his chest having not even moved while they slept. That Aramis found such peace, such security, in his arms to sleep so soundly touched him on all levels - brother, lover and Master.

From the shadows on the wall he knew it was sometime late in the afternoon. He wondered if the others were up or if they were still enjoying their own reunion, remembering Porthos' words about wanting to welcome Athos home. As he thought about them, he recalled what he had wanted to ask of Aramis earlier. His lover had yet to take him and d'Artagnan found himself longing for that quite badly. If the other man felt up to it when he awoke, he hoped perhaps they might see about taking that final step together.

Aramis slowly came awake to the feel of a hand rubbing up and down his back. The tender motion causing him to smile against his Master's chest. He always loved the feel of his Master's hands upon him. They grounded him, reminding him that he was not alone, that no matter what there was someone who understood and would be there to help him. Not that he did not think his brothers would stand by his side through anything. He did. But they did not always understand the things he struggled with.

“How are you feeling?” D'Artagnan asked, breaking the silence and letting Aramis know that he was aware he was awake.

“Peaceful,” Aramis replied after thinking a moment.

“Ah,” d'Artagnan replied, realizing that Aramis was still thoroughly down inside himself. It would seem his plans would have to be put on hold once more. That was alright. He would rather that than force the other man to come back before he was truly ready to.

“Master?”

“No worries,” d'Artagnan told him. “So what would my Little One, my Boy, like to do now?”

“I would still serve you, Master,” Aramis replied. “You said before there was something you wanted. Will you tell me now what that was?”

“Not just now,” d'Artagnan said, smiling indulgently. While he would love nothing more, he did not want their union to be when Aramis was like this. 

“Are you sure, Master?” Aramis all but purred as he looked up at him. “Your boy, you know how much he loves to serve you.”

“It sounds like my Boy is rather playful,” d'Artagnan said. “Tell me, Boy, are you feeling particularly naughty?”

“What will it get me if I say yes?” Boy asked cheekily. He let his hand start to wander across his Master's chest and stomach, aroused by the simple feel of his skin.

“If you are lucky, very thoroughly fucked,” d'Artagnan replied. his grin widened when he felt Aramis go completely still against him. He could feel his breath speed up as it ghosted against his skin giving testament to just how much he liked the idea.

“In that case, Master, I am feeling very naughty indeed,” Aramis nearly choked.

Tipping his Boy's head up, d'Artagnan kissed him deeply before throwing back the blanket and getting up. He crossed the room to the bureau and took out Aramis' leash. He smirked at the wide-eyed look the man gave him as he attached the leash to his collar then tied it to the bedpost. 

“Ma-master?” Aramis called out, his voice shaking from the wild surge of desire that had slammed into him when he had seen the leash in his Master's hands. It had only increased as he had tethered him in place.

“Can't have my naughty Boy running off now can I?” D'Artagnan went back to the bureau and retrieved the leather cuffs as well. He smiled sharply as his Boy began to actually pant at the sight of them. 

“Fuck!” Aramis exclaimed, reaching down to grab himself roughly. He had not been this turned on this quickly since the first time d'Artagnan had put him on his knees.

“You alright, Boy?” D'Artagnan asked as he pulled his arms behind his back and secured them in place. He could see how strongly his words had affected him and didn't want to completely overwhelm him.

“Yes, Master,” Aramis replied as he struggled to get himself back under control. He did not know why _this_ was affecting him so strongly, only that it was.

“Very well. You wait here. I shall be back in just a moment and then we can see just how naughty my Boy wishes to be.”

D'Artagnan put his breeches back on and left Aramis tethered to the bed, careful to close the door most of the way behind him so that he could still hear if Aramis should have need of him. Assuming the others were amenable, he didn't want Aramis to know of his surprise until the very last second, though. He found Athos and Porthos in the sitting room quietly talking. Both men looked up at his arrival, sending him curious glances when they saw he was alone.

“Aramis is fine,” he began. “He's waiting in our room. I was, well...that is...I was hoping the two of you might be willing to, uh...”

“D'Artagnan? What is it?” Athos asked. He wasn't exactly worried. D'Artagnan didn't appear to be in any distress. What he did seem, however, was embarrassed.

D'Artagnan ran a hand through his hair, annoyed with himself. These were his lovers, his brothers, there was nothing he could not say to them. He knew this. He was letting his own doubts and insecurities get away from him and he needed to stop.

“Boy would like to play,” he began again. “I was hoping you two would feel like helping with that.”

“Are you sure you want us to, lad?” Porthos asked. “This is supposed to be your time together.”

“I'm sure.”

“I take it you have something in mind,” Athos said, his cock already starting to harden at the thought of sharing Boy. 

“I promised him a very thorough fucking. I thought you might each take him in turn.”

“What about you?” Porthos asked. He didn't care for it when the Whelp got excluded from things whether it was his own idea or not.

“I thought I might...taste him afterwards,” d'Artagnan answered, blushing slightly. “Aramis finds the idea of his Master licking another man's spend from his hole both incredibly arousing and incredibly debasing. I am hoping, by the time I am done, to have at least lessened the debasing element in his eyes.”

“Is he going to be able to take both of us after Porthos and you having him?” Athos asked.

“I did not take him. I made him spend with my mouth and my words. He was tired afterwards so we rested.”

“And what did our sweet Aramis do for you, lad?” Porthos grinned.

“Slept in my arms,” d'Artagnan said softly. He turned away for a moment, not wanting to reveal the sudden emotion his words brought on.

“D'Artagnan...” Athos called.

“Regardless,” d'Artagnan said as if Athos had not spoken. “I would suggest Athos take him first. He will have an easier time of it that way. And do not let him goad you overly much. He is in a somewhat...naughty mood at present.”

The three men headed to the bedroom where Aramis waited, sitting up at the head of the bed. Aramis gasped when they walked in having only been expecting his Master to return. The sight of all three of them sent a decadent thrill through him. When he remembered that he was leashed and tethered to the bedpost with Athos and Pothos both looking on, he blushed deeply and let out a keening moan.

“Well well,” Porthos chuckled as he moved toward the bed. “Look what the Whelp got for us. Got us a pretty Boy all wrapped up with a bow for us to play with.”

“Indeed,” Athos grinned as he walked over to join Porthos. He unwound the leash from the bedpost, wrapping it tightly around his hand instead. He tugged on it, forcing Boy to lean toward him.

Aramis spread his knees, widening his stance to keep his balance. With his arms bound behind him it was much harder to remain upright, especially with Athos pulling on his leash. As it was, the way his brothers were looking at him was making him want to throw himself at their feet and beg them to use him however they wished. 

As Athos watched him, he could not deny the desire he felt at seeing Aramis like this, at seeing Boy bound and naked and his for the taking. Yet still he hesitated, something inside of him wary still of pushing too hard and causing harm where he only ever wanted to cause joy.

“Athos, he wants this,” d'Artagnan said softly seeing the sudden indecision on his brother's face. “We would not all be here right now if he did not. I promise you, brother, I will not let any harm come to him tonight.”

Athos looked at d'Artagnan for a moment, weighing his words then nodded. “Tell us what you want,” Athos said, turning his attention to Boy. He tugged sharply on the leash earning a gasp from Aramis and a stifled grunt from Porthos as well.

“I want to be yours,” Aramis replied.

“You are mine,” Athos growled. He wrapped the leash around his fist again, shortening it even more and drew Aramis close. He fisted his free hand in the man's hair and pulled him into a hard kiss. He did not release him until Aramis was pressed against him, Athos' grip the only thing holding him upright.

“Please, Sir,” Aramis panted when Athos finally released him. “Please. Inside me. I want you inside me. I need...need to feel you. Oh please...”

“Shh. Easy, Boy,” Athos soothed, running the hand not holding the leash up and down his back to try to calm him. “I want just that very thing.”

“How do you want him?” Porthos asked, speaking up for the first time since he had gone over to the bed.

“Help him onto the center of the bed,” Athos said. He reluctantly unwound the leash and handed it to Porthos. His brother held it out of the way while he took Aramis by the shoulders and moved him onto the center of the bed as Athos had directed. 

“You got the oil?” Porthos asked as he helped Aramis down so that he was resting on his shoulder and the side of his face with his ass in the air.

“I've got it,” Athos said. He had to stop for a brief moment when he turned back around and took in the sight before him. “God. He is...”

“I know,” Porthos chuckled. “Takes your breath away, doesn't it?”

“Yes,” Athos agreed wholeheartedly. He did not think he had ever seen a more enticing, more decadent sight than the one before him right now. He climbed back onto the bed between Aramis' spread thighs. He quickly oiled up two of his fingers then set the oil aside. With Porthos still holding the leash, he slipped both fingers inside of Aramis, pulling a long, low moan from him.

“Easy, Boy,” Porthos said, tugging once lightly on the leash. 

Aramis gasped in startled surprise when Porthos actually pulled on his leash. He had not expected that from him. The man was still somewhat uneasy about the leash, tolerating it but not really liking it. For him to do this showed a level of acceptance that Aramis had not been expecting. Not yet.

“Hand me his tether back,” Athos said holding out his hand to Porthos. 

Porthos turned it over gladly and sat back. He looked over Aramis and saw how excited he was, his eyes wide and dark as Athos stretched him on his fingers. Glancing over at d'Artagnan, he saw an answering desire as he watched Athos with Aramis, with Boy. Deciding it was past time that d'Artagnan become an active participant, Porthos stood up from the bed and moved over to join the younger man.

“Watch,” Athos whispered to Aramis as he tugged hard on the leash causing Aramis to gasp again. It had the desired effect, though. Aramis turned his eyes toward the pair and watched as Porthos sank to the floor right next to his Master and pulled him into a heated kiss.

“You're mine,” Porthos said loud enough for everyone in the room to hear. He bit down hard on the side of D'Artagnan's neck making the younger man cry out loudly and grip his arms tightly. He knew how much their youngest liked a forceful hand. Porthos thought it was long past time they gave him what he wanted for a change.

“Mas-” Aramis started to call out but a quick tug on his leash cut him off. 

“No,” Athos said as he twisted the fingers he had inside of him and began to thrust them in and out. “You pay attention to me now, Boy.”

“Ye-yes, Sir,” Aramis stammered slightly. He continued to watch his Master and Porthos, though, unable to take his eyes from them. He was not used to seeing his Master being handled so and he was not sure how it made him feel.

Pulling his fingers free, Athos took up the oil and poured some over his cock. He spilled more on the bed than on himself since he was only using one hand but he did not care. He spread it on himself then gripped Aramis by the hip. A moment later, he sank his cock inside of him, not stopping until he was all the way inside. 

Aramis groaned as Athos shoved his cock inside of him. He could feel his body clenching down on it making him moan and shake continuously. It was the feel of being filled so completely so quickly that was making him lose control as he was, that was making him sink down to that place inside of himself once more. That and the scene taking place a few feet away.

Porthos had shoved d'Artagnan down onto his back and was holding his arms stretched over his head with one hand. The other hand was fisted in D'Artagnan's hair, holding his head bent back so his throat was bared to him allowing Porthos to bite and suck at it as he wished.

“Porthos,” d'Artagnan moaned. He tried to pull his hands free but Porthos only tightened his grip, growling menacingly at his attempt to get away, feeble as it was. 

“You're mine, Whelp,” he said again, “and I'm mean to have you.”

“H-h-how?” D'Artagnan managed to ask.

“Any way I want to,” Porthos grinned. “And there isn't anything you can do about it.”

“No, please,” Aramis whispered from the bed. His eyes were locked on the pair. He was shaking though it was no longer from desire, but from fear. Fear for his Master. Aramis knew Porthos would not hurt him. Aramis understood that. But at the moment, he was still down too far to make the distinction. All he knew was that his Master was afraid and that he could not get to him.

D'Artagnan's eyes immediately cut to the pair on the bed. He could see the near panic in his Boy's, eyes. “Move me closer to the bed,” he told Porthos. “He needs to be able to feel me.”

Without a word, Porthos scooped d'Artagnan up and moved him over right next to the bed. He laid him back on the floor but this time he only pinned one of his arms above his head, leaving the other free. He felt his heart give a lurch when he reached up and gripped Aramis by the arm.

“It is alright, Boy,” d'Artagnan told him. “He is not hurting me. Porthos would never hurt me.”

“Do you need me to stop?” Athos asked softly. He had stilled, giving Aramis a chance to try to calm. He had not expected him to react so strongly to the sight of Porthos and d'Artagnan together. Then again, it was not the sight of Porthos and d'Artagnan but rather Porthos and his Master that he was finding so upsetting.

“No,” d'Artagnan told him. “He is alright. Aren't you, Boy?”

“Yes, Master,” Aramis said, calming now that he knew his Master was not truly being hurt in some way.

Athos nodded, accepting their answer. He knew d'Artagnan would not have told him to proceed if it would do harm to Aramis in some way, of that he was certain. Pulling back on the leash so that Aramis was forced to strain to relieve the pressure, Athos began fucking him then, taking his pleasure as he would with no apparent care for whether he was giving his lover any or not.

Seeing Athos going back to taking Aramis, Porthos returned his attention to the young man spread out before him. He continued to bite and suck at his neck until d'Artagnan was moaning and writhing once more. Only then did he move downward to his chest, tormenting his nipples in the same manner until they stood out stiff and red and sore. 

“I'm going to let go of your hand to take off your breeches,” Porthos told him as he sat up. “If you try to get away, I'll tan your hide. You understand me?”

“Yes, Sir,” d'Artagnan said, the title falling from his lips without thought. He heard Aramis' sudden intake of breath and squeezed his arm reassuringly.

When Athos heard d'Artagnan refer to Porthos as “Sir”, he felt his bollocks draw up dangerously. He expected to hear such things from Aramis now but to hear such a thing fall from D'Artagnan's lips, especially when he was still acting as Aramis' Master, was startling.

Porthos surged forward and kissed d'Artagnan fiercely, shoving his tongue into the other man's mouth as deeply as he could. When he pulled back, he let go of his hand and sat up then quickly went to work on his breeches, wanting him naked. Once he was stripped, he grabbed the oil off the bed and slicked his fingers before settling back between D'Artagnan's spread legs. Pushing one thigh up, Porthos bared the younger man to him. He took a moment to simply look at him, then ran an oiled finger between his cheeks to press against his hole.

D'Artagnan gasped and arched when he felt Porthos' finger press against him. He knew from experience how the man liked to tease, how he liked to press against his hole again and again until he was begging for him to just take him already. He had no idea if he was going to do that here, now, in front of Aramis but he would not put it past the man.

“God, Porthos, do it already,” Athos panted as he continued to fuck into Aramis almost lazily. He kept pulling back on the leash whenever he thrust forward, making the man grunt and gasp from the strain of it. 

Aramis bit back another gasp when Athos jerked on the leash, pulling his collar tight against his throat. Every time it pulled, he could feel it digging into the bite his Master had put there earlier. Every time, it reminded him of his Master's claim on him. Even though another man might be fucking him, it was undeniable proof that he belonged to his Master.

With a leer, Porthos slid his finger inside d'Artagnan. He didn't stop until his finger was all the way inside of him, the younger man's body clenching on it enticingly. He gave him a brief moment to adjust then began fucking his finger in and out of him, taking him as he wished. When his body began to relax, Porthos pulled his finger out and used the oil again. He grabbed d'Artagnan's free hand with his own, holding it down by his side, then pressed two slick fingers back inside of him. 

D'Artagnan could not hold in his moan when Porthos sank both fingers into him up to the hilt. He had only filled him so full once before, normally settling for taking him with but a single finger. He felt incredibly stretched and he thrashed his head back and forth as he clenched and released Aramis' arm over and over again, fighting to adjust to the abrupt intrusion.

“Not going to last much longer,” Athos panted as he began to speed up his thrusts. The feel of Aramis, of simply taking him without regard to anything else, along with the scene being played out less than a foot away was wreaking havoc with his control. 

“Go ahead and spend, brother,” Porthos said as he fucked his fingers in and out of d'Artagnan, causing him to gasp and pant. “I'm fucking him when you're done any way.”

“Forgot about that,” Athos chuckled. “You hear that, Boy? You've still got Porthos to take before you're done. Think you can take it?”

“I don't... I don't know,” Aramis gasped, struggling to hold on. He felt like collapsing, his arms ached where they were bound behind him, as did the shoulder that was supporting him. 

“Too bad you don't have a choice,” Athos told him. He jerked back hard on the leash and held it, coming close to choking Aramis. Athos began to thrust forward hard and fast then and a moment later he was crying out as he began to spend, filling Aramis' body with his seed. 

Finally spent, Athos released his hold on the leash, allowing Aramis to relax. He slowly pulled out of the man and sat back. He did not want to leave him until Porthos was ready to take his place, sensing that Boy would not take too well to being alone just now.

Porthos spent a little longer fucking his broad fingers in and out of d'Artagnan before reluctantly pulling them free. “You okay, Whelp?” he whispered in his ear, not wanting Aramis to hear. “I can stay with you if you need me to. Or finish you off.”

“I'm okay,” d'Artagnan whispered back. “Go give him what he needs. I know you are near if I need you.”

“I love you, Whelp.” Porthos placed a quick kiss to his forehead then moved up onto the bed next to Aramis and Athos.

Athos waited until Porthos had taken his place between Aramis’ trembling thighs before moving down to where d’Artagnan lay. He pulled the younger man up so he was leaning back against his chest and wrapped his arms around him. From this close to the bed he could see the toll this was taking on Aramis and wondered if he really was able to take Porthos as well.

“Are you certain he is up to this?” Athos whispered in d’Artagnan’s ear.

D’Artagnan eyed his lover carefully, taking in the fine tremors that ran through him. He could tell his strength was waning but he was fairly certain he could hold out for Porthos. Still, it would not hurt to check and he knew it would ease Athos’ mind and likely Porthos’ as well.

“Boy, do you feel up to continuing or do you need to stop?” d’Artagnan asked him. “It is alright if you do. Porthos will not be upset with you. We would all much rather you tell us if it is too much than allow one of us to harm you in some way.”

“I… I can take it, Master,” Aramis said after a moment. “Thank you for checking, though.”

“Alright,” d’Artagnan said. “If it gets to be too much, simply call for me.”

“Yes, Master.”

“You sure about this, Boy?” Porthos asked as well. He had been surprised when the Whelp had stopped to ask if he could take it and was worried now.

“I promise,” Aramis said. “I will not allow you to harm me, Sir. I would never do that to you.”

Taking his word for it, Porthos took up the oil and slicked himself. He knew he didn’t really need to, not after Athos, but he wanted to make sure. Spreading Aramis’ cheeks, he moaned softly at the sight of his lover’s red, glistening hole. The oil Athos had used to prepare him was still visible as was a trickle of Athos’ own spend. Pressing the head of his cock against his hole, he began to push forward, easing himself inside of Aramis rather than forcing his way in.

“Oh,” Aramis moaned when he felt Porthos slowly sliding into him. The big man was being careful with him, going slowly as he filled him and it made his eyes sting. Boy was used to a degree of roughness, especially when servicing these two men. He was not accustomed to such gentleness from them.

“Boy?” d’Artagnan called, frowning. He had not missed the sudden look on his face and wanted to make sure he was not in distress.

“I am alright,” Aramis replied. “He is… he is being gentle. I am not accustomed… They normally…”

“Of course,” d’Artagnan smiled, understanding now what was affecting the other man so. “They love you as much as I do, Beautiful Boy. Porthos has no wish to actually hurt you. Neither of them do. You are precious to all of us.”

Porthos had continued his slow penetration as they spoke, not stopping until he was all the way inside the other man. He had to stop for a moment then as Aramis’ words practically rang in his ears. As he thought about it, he realized that they were always rough when they interacted with Boy. He had to wonder now if perhaps he might like something else from them.

“Tell me what you want,” Porthos said as he held himself still inside of him.

“Let me serve you,” Aramis replied at once. “Please, Sir.”

“Boy…”

“It’s alright, Porthos,” d’Artagnan told him. “He does not mind the roughness. He was merely taken off-guard by the unexpected gentleness. Let him serve you. That is what brings him the most pleasure when he is like this.”

“Alright,” Porthos said, taking d’Artagnan’s word for it. He would still be careful of just how rough he really was, keeping in mind that he had already been taken by Athos and none too gently at that. 

Decision made, Porthos pulled back and thrust forward, pleased at the gasp of pleasure he pulled from the other man. Slowly, he began to speed up, giving Aramis time to adjust to the deeper, harder thrusts until he was fucking him as he normally did, his lover crying out softly with every stab of his cock.

Knowing he was getting close, Porthos reached down between Aramis’ legs, taking his hard and leaking cock in hand. Aramis cried out loudly and tried to buck his hips but Porthos’ grip held him firmly in place. Tightening his hand on his cock, Porthos began to stroke him in time with his thrusts and soon had Aramis keening loudly.

Aramis felt Porthos begin to speed up, snapping his hips forward hard and knew he was close. He squeezed his eyes shut as his own body strained for release, his senses nearly overloaded. “Please, please, please, please…” he begged as Porthos rode him, taking his pleasure.

Suddenly, Porthos slammed into him and stilled, groaning loudly. The hand around his cock squeezed almost to the point of pain then Aramis felt the cock inside him swell and begin to pulse as Porthos spent inside of him, filling his body with another of his brother’s seed.

“Spend for me,” Porthos growled as he started stroking him again, his thumb running over the head just the way Aramis liked best. “Spend for me now, Boy.”

That command was all it took for Aramis’ fragile control to break. He bucked hard into Porthos’ hand and wailed as he began to spend, his seed spilling on the bed beneath him, some even hitting his face where it was pressed into the mattress.

Once Porthos could move again, he carefully pulled out of Aramis and sat back. D’Artagnan was at his Boy’s side in an instant, unbinding his arms and helping him over onto his side. He removed the leash as well, wanting to give him as much freedom of movement as possible. He was going to need to take the collar off and check his neck but he would wait until Aramis came back to himself a bit for that, knowing it would distress him if he did so now.

“He okay?” Porthos asked as he got off the bed.

“He’s fine,” d’Artagnan replied. “Sore and exhausted but otherwise fine. Once I clean him up, do you think you could carry him into our shared room? I know he’d like it if we were all together tonight.”

“Of course,” Porthos said at once. He was a bit surprised by the request, having thought d’Artagnan would want to be alone with Aramis after that. 

D’Artagnan started to get up to go get something to clean Aramis with but Athos pressed a hand to his shoulder stopping him. “Stay with him,” he said. “I will bring water and cloths to clean him with. Do you want smalls to dress him or would he rather stay as he is?”

“He’d rather stay like this. He prefers the feeling of skin to cloth.”

“I shall be right back then.”

While Athos went to get the items needed to clean everyone up, Porthos studied their youngest. “Your plan kinda got derailed, didn’t it?”

“Yes,” d’Artagnan chuckled. “But he is simply too wrung out. He would find no enjoyment in it so there is no point. Another time perhaps.”

“Master? There is something you wanted?”

“Yes, Precious. For you to rest until Athos returns,” d’Artagnan replied.

Luckily for d’Artagnan, Athos returned before Aramis could argue further and he quickly set about cleaning him up. He bathed him all over, washing the sweat and spend from his body before spreading his legs and gently cleaning between them. He saw him blush hotly again and placed a gentle kiss on his thigh right over the bite he had placed their earlier.

“Hey, what’s this?” Porthos asked, spying the bite mark on Aramis’ thigh for the first time.

“My Master’s mark,” Aramis replied dreamily. “There is another under my collar. Oh Porthos, he marked me so well. He made me feel so _good_.”

“Well that’s… that’s good then,” Porthos said, glancing at d’Artagnan. He saw the wariness on the lad’s face and placed a hand on his shoulder. It was clear that Aramis had wanted it, that it had not done him any harm, had in fact made him quite happy. That was good enough for him. 

D’Artagnan finished cleaning him then sat down next to him on the bed. “You’re not going to like this next part, Precious, but it’s got to be done,” he said, his voice soft but firm.

Aramis looked at him, licking his lips nervously. He took a slow breath and made himself relax. “I am yours, Master. I will do as you say.”

“You are amazing,” d’Artagnan told him, lifting his hand and kissing the back of it. “I treasure every moment I have with you.”

“Master…”

“I need to check your neck,” d’Artagnan said before the conversation could get away from him. “Athos was pulling on your leash pretty hard and I need to check on the bite beneath it.”

“You want to take my collar off?” Aramis asked the distress in his voice clear to all.

“Yes,” d’Artagnan said resolutely. “Hopefully, if all is well, it will only be for a few minutes. If the bite has been irritated too much, however, you may not be able to put it back on right away.”

“Master, no. Please…”

“Aramis, you will not fight me on this,” d’Artagnan commanded gently. “There are very few things in which I order you to obey. When it comes to your welfare, however, I will not hesitate.”

“Yes, Master,” Aramis whispered, closing his eyes so as not to have to watch his Master taking away his collar.

“The removal of your collar does not symbolize the removal of my hand from your neck,” d’Artagnan told him. “Is that not the purpose of the bites to begin with? To have my marks upon you that cannot simply be taken off?”

Aramis opened his eyes and looked at his Master then. He saw the concern in his eyes and the reluctance but also the resolve. His Master would not budge on this. He would not put his well-being at risk no matter how much it might hurt him to do so.

“I am yours, Master. Do with me what you will,” Aramis told him, forcing the panic away. His Master was right, even without the collar he still bore his Master’s marks.

“Thank you,” d’Artagnan said. He reached out and very carefully removed the collar from around Aramis’ neck. He lay it next to his head, close enough so he could still see it and know it was near. Turning his head, he examined the wound. He could see where the collar had rubbed against it, abrading and irritating it. 

“I didn’t hurt him, did I?” Athos asked, concerned.

“No,” d’Artagnan shook his head. “It is reddened and chafed but it is not bleeding. I do not feel comfortable putting the collar back on it directly, though.”

“What if we put a loose bandage around it first?” Porthos suggested. “Then the collar won’t rub against it but he’ll still be able to wear it.”

“How does that sound, Precious?” d’Artagnan asked him. “If you really want the collar on without it, I will do so, but I would rather not.”

“I do not want to worry you, Master,” Aramis said, smiling up at him. “If wearing the bandage beneath it until it is no longer so raw will ease your mind then I will happily do so.”

“Thank you, Beautiful Boy,” d’Artagnan said, kissing his hand again. “I will not ask you to wear it long, only until there is no longer a danger of it causing you harm.”

Porthos went and got the bandages and brought them back. D’Artagnan cut a short length and loosely wrapped it around Aramis’ neck. He fasted the collar over, satisfied it would hold it in place well enough. That done, he got up so Porthos could pick Aramis up to carry to their shared room.

“I can walk,” Aramis said, blushing hotly at being treated so.

“You are exhausted,” Porthos said as he carried him. “Now it is our turn to take care of you.” 

“We will set the room to rights and join you shortly,” Athos called after the pair, wanting a brief moment with d’Artagnan.

“Something wrong?” d’Artagnan asked as he stripped the sheets from the bed. He knew his lover well enough to recognize when he was making an excuse. Porthos likely did, too, but Aramis was still too far down to notice it.

“Not really,” Athos said. “I just wanted to make sure he was truly alright. I was a bit rougher on him than I meant to be. I did not realize it would take so much out of him.”

“He is fine,” d’Artagnan said, pleased that Athos was so worried for Aramis. “He could use a day or two of rest, though.”

“I think we can manage that. I’m fairly certain Porthos has some plans in mind for you anyway.”

“Yes, well…” d’Artagnan trailed off, looking away uncertainly. Porthos did have some plans for him but he was unsure if they would ever come to fruition. At least not as Porthos wanted them to at present. Not the way _he_ wanted them to.

“D’Artagnan, what is it?”

“Nothing, Athos. Pay me no mind.”

“Never,” Athos said. “Tell me what's wrong?”  
   
“I want... never mind, it does not matter,” d'Artagnan sighed, turning away.  He knew he was being foolish, worrying over a future that might never come to be.  Still, it was difficult not to, especially when he watched Aramis grow stronger day by day.  
   
“Tell me what it is you want,” Athos urged.  He hated d'Artagnan's propensity to put his own desires aside for theirs.  They all did.  It was a rare thing when he asked for anything from them.  If there was something he wanted, then Athos would see him have it.  
   
“It is not important, Athos.  Truly,” d'Artagnan said, trying to dissuade the other man.  He could see, however, that his lover was having none of it.  With a resigned sigh, he ran his hand through his hair and studied a spot on the far wall so that he would not have to look at the man as he hesitantly explained.  “I would have Aramis take me first.  We have not taken that step together yet.  But... I have no wish to do so acting as his Master.  Sometimes I think...”  
   
“You think what?” Athos pressed, stunned by the fear he saw in the other’s eyes.  He had not realized the younger man was carrying this inside of him.  And from the looks of him, he had been doing so for quite some time.  They needed to talk this out.  All of them, but first he needed to know exactly what d'Artagnan seemed so afraid of.  
   
“Sometimes I think there is no d'Artagnan and Aramis anymore.  There is only Master and Little One.  Or Boy. And I despair for what will happen when the day comes that he no longer needs a Master to guide him.” 

&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M

Treville locked the door to his office with a sigh. It was late and he was more than ready to head home. He was still getting used to this, this eagerness to be on his way home. For years, he had preferred to remain in his office working to all hours of the night rather than returning to his solitary home. His home was not solitary any longer and that knowledge quickened his step as he headed down the stairs and across the yard.

As he neared Aramis’ makeshift laboratory, he began to slow. Of their own accord, his feet turned heading him toward it rather than the gate. It was almost as if something were pulling him, tugging at him, and the closer he got to the little shed, the stronger the feel. 

He felt his heart start to slam in his chest, like it did right before a battle, the blood rising in his veins. He had not felt this alive in years. He felt his cock harden in his breeches as he reached for the lock sealing the door shut.

“Captain,” Claude called out, clapping the man on the shoulder.

The unexpected feel of a hand on him was enough to break him out of his stupor and only years of discipline kept him from jumping like a startled rabbit. He turned to address the Musketeer who had called him, fighting the sudden nausea that threatened to overtake him.

“Sir, are you alright?” Claude asked when he got a look at his commanding officer.

"Yes. Yes, fine," Treville said, trying to sound convincing. One look at the other man made it clear he had failed.

"You seem a bit pale, Sir," Claude insisted, treading carefully.

Treville bit down hard on the angry retort that came to mind, realizing it was somewhat uncalled for for him to become openly hostile with one of his men over such a thing. All at once, a wave of dizziness hit him and he had to close his eyes to keep his feet.

"Sir!" Claude called out alarmingly as he gripped his Captain's arm. He had seen the little color drain from the Captain's face and feared he might pass out. “Allow me to escort you home, Captain.”

“That is unnecessary,” Treville said.

“I insist,” Jacques pressed. “You do not look well at all, Sir.”

“Very well. I fear your caution may be prudent.” As he allowed Claude to escort him home, he remembered that the man had not said what he wanted when he first approached him. "Was there something you needed before?"

Claude thought for a moment, the Captain's sudden illness having pushed all other thoughts aside. "Yes, Sir. Arami's Laboratory. The men have been asking about it. I know y out said to keep everyone away but it's been some time now. Do the men still need to steer clear of it?"

Treville felt another wave of dizziness hit him, though much weaker than before. "Yes," he told Claude firmly. "No on other than Aramis is to go near that building without my express permission or Aramis himself with them. If you see anyone else attempt to, report it to me at once."

"Yes, Captain."

&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M

Inside the shed, La Oscuridad seethed. It had been so close. The one called Treville had been right there. He’d had his hand on the lock. Another moment and he would have been inside. All it would need would be a touch, a taste, a wisp of contact. It did not need to possess him. Not yet. That would come later. For now, simple influence would be enough. 

Slowly, La Oscuridad calmed itself. This was not a failure. It had lured a man to it. Not just any man, either. It had lured Treville to it. Treville ruled these men. They obeyed him without hesitation. And Treville knew. He knew that there was something within the little room. He knew that the Seminarian was keeping it locked for a reason. Still, it was able to entice him to it. 

It was growing stronger indeed. 

Soon, it would succeed in luring one of the men to it.

Soon, it would be able to leave this place.

Soon, there would be Hell to pay.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay. I've been down with bronchitis. Hope you all enjoy.

When Athos and d'Artagnan joined the other two, Aramis was laying half on top of Porthos, his head pillowed on his chest while the bigger man ran his fingers through his hair. He seemed on the brink of sleep once more and, for a moment, d'Artagnan was tempted to suggest he and Athos take one of the other rooms rather than disturb him.

"Hey, look," Porthos said, giving Aramis a gentle nudge to rouse him. "Your Master and Athos are here."

"Oh," Aramis said, his eyes blinking open. He smiled at the pair as they stood just inside the room, his face looking young and boyish despite the scars upon it. "We missed you."

"We were only away ten minutes," Athos chuckled. He took d'Artagnan by the hand and pulled him with him over to the bed so they could climb in as well. He could sense their youngest's reluctance after his confession but knew better than to allow him to pull away. He was getting better at it, at not withdrawing from them, but the reminder would not hurt.

"We still missed you," Aramis insisted. 

They settled into their usual positions and were soon resting peacefully once more. Everyone except d'Artagnan, that was. He knew it was simply a matter of too much on his mind but he could not seem to settle. He wished he had not said anything to Athos. He didn't want him to mention anything to Aramis. The last thing he wanted was for the man to attempt to be with him in a way he did not want to simply to please him. The very thought went against the very foundation of their relationship, of all of their relationships. They took each other on whatever terms each felt able to offer. They always had. D'Artagnan would not see that change for him. He would not allow it to.

When his inability to relax started to make the others restless, he quietly slipped from the bed. He understood at least part of his problem was the fact that he was still aroused. He had not spent when they were together. Nor had he when he and Aramis were together earlier. Both times had been quite arousing and his body was still on edge from the unexpected denial. There was nothing to be done for it, though, other than taking care of the matter himself. His lovers were spent and tired. He was not about to rouse one of them simply because he was in need. 

Knowing he needed to do something to keep from growing frustrated with himself, he dressed and headed out to the barn. It was the first place his brothers would look for him once they found him missing and it always brought him some measure of peace. He wasn't sure if it was the physical act of caring for the horses, or their presence or perhaps just the smell of them, but it never failed to calm him no matter how great his inner turmoil.

When Athos awoke, he wasn't surprised to find d'Artagnan gone from their midst. He knew he regretted admitting what was troubling him but Athos was glad that he had. They needed to address this, if for no other reason than to ease the lad's mind. They all knew how stubborn he could be. If he got it set in his head too firmly that he could only be with Aramis one way it would be nearly impossible to convince him otherwise. Athos would rather avoid that if at all possible.

"He's probably out with the horses," Porthos said softly, sensing Athos had awoken but not wanting to disturb Aramis' sleep.

"Most likely," Athos agreed. "Which is probably for the best as we need to have a chat about our dear Whelp."

"What is wrong?" Aramis asked at once. He had been slowly coming awake but Athos' words had brought him around fully.

"Nothing," Athos said quickly. "But he is worried for something and I would see us ease that fear if we are able."

"Tell us, brother, and know that whatever it is we will fix it," Porthos said.

"I know we shall try," Athos hesitated. "But I also understand that we may not be able to this time."

"Why ever not?" Aramis asked, taken aback by Athos' uncharacteristic pessimism where d'Artagnan was concerned.

"Because, to use his words, he is afraid that there is no longer a relationship between d'Artagnan and Aramis," Athos explained as best he could. He saw the fear and near panic in Aramis' eyes at his words and rushed to explain further. "He fears you only see him as your Master now. That he is no longer d'Artagnan in your eyes and he fears for what that might mean when the day comes that you no longer have need of him."

"He...he thinks..."

"He fears," Athos corrected. "I take it his fears are unfounded?"

Aramis stared at Athos, aghast. "Yes," he said succinctly. "I never stopped seeing him as d'Artagnan! Why..."

"Calm down, love," Athos said, taking his hand and squeezing it. "I think it is simply the ways things have played out of late that has led him to think this way. It is not anything you have done."

"Obviously it is," Aramis insisted. "But tell me why you think otherwise. What else is there that you've not said? How did you even come to find this out?"

"He let slip that he wanted something," Athos explained. "When I pushed him to tell me what it was, he said he wanted you to take him, that the two of you had not as of yet. He then said he had no desire for you to do so with him acting as your Master, though."

"And he thinks he could not simply ask me for this?" Aramis asked, trying to understand.

"I think he's tried," Porthos put in. "I think it's like Athos said. Things just didn't work out quite right each time he went to and he came to the conclusion that he did. You know how he is. If he can think up some way that he might lose one of us to torture himself with, he will."

"Tell me the truth, both of you," Aramis demanded suddenly. "Do you feel as though I have stopped seeing him as d'Artagnan? That I only see him as my Master now?"

"No," Athos said honestly. "But I can see where he might draw that conclusion. It is how you interact almost constantly now. He is mistaken, but perhaps understandably so."

"It would explain why the thought of me taking over as your Master scared him so bad," Porthos added, thinking back to earlier. "He was scared that if he lost that link to you then he'd lose you altogether."

"Please," Aramis implored, closing his eyes in pain. "Please help me fix this."

"Oh love," Porthos said, pulling him in tight. "We will. Of course we will. We love the Whelp, too. We'll help you any way you need us to."

&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M

D'Artagnan felt his equilibrium returning as he brushed out Aramis' mare. He had always thought she was one of the most magnificent animals he had ever seen, glossy and black and spirited. Much like her owner. He laughed softly as he imagined the look on Aramis' face if he found out he had been likened to his horse. Then again, Aramis adored her so he might not take exception to the comparison too greatly.

 

He paused when he heard someone nearing the barn door. A moment later, he recognized Aramis' light tread and resumed his brushing. He was not surprised one of them had come to hunt him down. He was a bit surprised that it was Aramis rather than Athos but then again Aramis did tend to prefer his Master close after something so intense.

"May I join you?" Aramis asked, pausing at the entrance. D'Artagnan had never been one to turn aside his company but he still asked, not wanting to impose if the other man wanted solitude.

"Always," d'Artagnan smiled, setting down the brush and turning his attention to his lover. One look at Aramis' face told him something was definitely troubling him and he cursed himself again for telling Athos what he had.

"I would like to talk with you," Aramis said as he closed the distance between them. He took d'Artagnan by the hand and led him over to the empty stall. He sat down then pulled the other man down beside him. 

"Little One..." D'Artagnan began only for Aramis to shake his head

"No, d'Artagnan," Aramis said, making sure to address him by name. "I would like to talk to you. Me. Not Little One. God, I sound insane when I say that. As if we are not one and the same. Regardless, it is not as Little One that I wish to speak to you now."

"This is not necessary," d'Artagnan told him. "I take you on your own terms, Aramis. I always have. You do not need to attempt to change yourself in some way. Not for me."

"I thank you for that and I assure you that I am not. I would never do that. It would be tantamount to a betrayal of the trust inherent between us."

D'Artagnan sighed, realizing that Aramis was not going to let this go. He supposed he couldn't blame him. If it were him, he wouldn't let it go either. "I take it Athos told you about our talk?"

"Yes," Aramis nodded. "First, let me assure you once again that there will never be a time when I do not need you, need this. This need in me, it was here long before Bathory. It will persist long after she is nothing more than a distant memory. I may not need to rely on you so heavily, but I will never not need you."

D'Artagnan squeezed the hand in his tightly as some of the weight lifted from him. He knew Aramis would not mislead him in this. He would not offer assurances if there was a chance he might be mistaken. It was a relief to know that, though his need for him might wane, it would never completely disappear. That there would always be a place for him in this man's life was more than he had even dared hope for.

"Now I must offer you my sincerest apologies," Aramis continued. "I have, through my own selfishness, made you think that I have come to view you as my Master and nothing more. You feel I have stopped seeing _you_. Nothing could be further from the truth. I did not mean to take advantage of you, of what you so willingly offered to me, to the point where you felt I wanted nothing from you but that."

"Stop," d'Artagnan said firmly. "You have taken advantage of no one, least of all me. I knew what I was getting into when we began this. If it led somewhere I was not quite expecting, that is no fault of yours."

"But it is," Aramis insisted. "It is if I make you feel as though I only see you as a...a thing. When we first began, I told you that I was usually little more than a means to an end for my partners. That I have made you feel the same, shames me."

"You have not," d'Artagnan told him. "You have never made me feel like that. You would never be so callous. I know I am loved and well. You do not need to try to offer yourself in a way you do not wish to just to please me."

"How can you think there would be any way I would not wish to be with you?" Aramis asked him. "I love you, d'Artagnan. You. Not what you can do for me. And if there is a need you have that I am not meeting, you only need to tell me so."

"Aramis," d'Artagnan huffed then pulled the man into his arms. "I love you with all my heart. You mean the world to me exactly as you are. That our relationship is different than what you share with the others, there is nothing wrong with that and I am sorry for making you think that."

"You don't believe me," Aramis sighed, frustrated with himself for not being able to make d'Artagnan believe him. "You do not believe I still see you...still want you...as simply the man you are. Very well then. If you will not believe my words, perhaps my actions will prove more successful."

Not wanting to argue any further, d'Artagnan did not reply. He held his lover in his arms and let the feel of him ease him as it was always wont to do. He knew Aramis meant well, that he felt bad for what he saw as taking advantage of him, but there was nothing to be done for it. He understood his place, in this as in everything else. 

When the pair came back in from the barn, it was clear that Aramis' talk had not gone as well as he had hoped. He was frustrated and sad at the same time and his brothers ached to comfort him. They knew, though, that there was little they could do to help other than simply be there for him.

"So what's on the agenda for today?" Athos asked once the other two had joined them in the sitting room. He was hoping to draw Aramis out of his melancholy and give him something else to focus on besides the situation with d'Artagnan.

"I had thought we might complete my rebranding," Aramis said without preamble. He had been thinking about it for a while now and the Captain's letter only made him more anxious to get it done. He wanted to be healed before the wedding, not wanting his discomfort to be a reminder of their previous falling out. He also wanted it done and over with for his Master's sake. He needed to be able to stop looking at the other man in that regard and to do that he needed for this to be finished. 

"Are you sure?" D'Artagnan asked, surprised and apprehensive in turns. He knew it would not be as bad as the first time or even the second. The fact that this was the third and final branding would also ease his mind. But he would never find taking a branding iron to Aramis' flesh anything other than repugnant no matter how necessary he knew it was.

"I am," Aramis said. "But if you are not ready, if you need more time to prepare, I understand."

"No," d'Artagnan said at once. "I told you before I would not turn aside from my duty to you. I know you want it gone and that you feel this will be the final step in eradicating it completely."

"D'Artagnan..."

"No," d'Artagnan stopped him. "You have always called me Master in this. You will do so this time as well. Give me an hour and meet me in the glade." With that, he went to get the things he would need to finally rid Aramis of that hateful mark for good. He knew this third time was not exactly necessary but he also understood that it meant something to Aramis. He needed it in order to find closure and finally be at peace.

The other three watched him go and kept quiet. Only when they heard him leave the house to head to the glade did they move, pressing close against Aramis on either side. "He is too stubborn by far," Athos said softly as he kissed his lover's temple.

"Yes, but he is not altogether wrong," Aramis said as he relaxed into their embrace. "He was acting as my Master when he came up with this. He was acting as my Master for both previous brands. For him to even attempt to do differently now would be...wrong somehow. He understands me, understands what this does to me, enough to know that I need that anchor to be able to endure this."

"Love?" Porthos frowned. He knew it was a trial for Aramis as it would be for any man but this sounded like something else.

"Even though it is you three, even though we are in the glade, I cannot help but remember...before," Aramis tried to explain. "He understands this and knows that I rely on that bond, on the fact that he is my Master, to help me endure it. To try to do otherwise would likely prove disastrous."

"We had not realized it was still so difficult for you," Athos said. 

"It is not because d'Artagnan, my Master, does everything in his power to ensure it is not," Aramis replied. "No matter how much it hurts him to do so."

"He loves you," Porthos said. "There's nothing in this world that boy wouldn't do for you."

"I love him as well. He is precious to me. And yet, I have managed to make him feel as though he has no place in my life other than..." Aramis trailed off, upset with himself all over again at what he had allowed to happen.

"Stop that," Athos admonished softly. "You did not realize. We have all been guilty of such at one time or another. You know now and you will fix it. We will help you fix it, but this did not happen in a day and it won't be fixed in one either."

"You are right, of course," Aramis agreed. "It will take time and work but I will fix this. He thinks I no longer see him as the man he is. I will show him just how wrong he is."

At the glade, they found d'Artagnan tending the small fire he had built as he waited for them. They all knew their roles in this and everything was quickly laid out, ready to begin. Aramis stood between Athos and Porthos, his chest laid bare, waiting for d'Artagnan to direct him to his knees. He felt a momentary spike of fear at the pain he knew was coming then a sense of peace settled over him as he realized that this was it, this was the final act needed to cleanse him for good.

With everything ready, d'Artagnan approached Aramis. He pulled him into his arms and kissed him soundly. "I love you," he told him. "More than life itself. Are you ready?"

"Yes, Master," Aramis replied as he put himself completely into his Master's hands.

"Then kneel for me," d'Artagnan instructed.

By the time d'Artagnan finally returned to the house, enough time had passed that all three of his brothers were visibly anxious. They all knew how hard this was for him. Though the emotional impact was not nearly as devastating as the first time, it still took a toll on him.

As he had done each time before, Aramis went to him, understanding that his Master needed to know he was unharmed and that the bond between them was unbroken. Taking the younger man in his arms, he was relieved to feel only the slightest of tremors running through him.

"It's done, Master," Aramis whispered into his hair as he held him, d'Artagnan's face pressed against his uninjured shoulder. "It's over now. Thank you so much."

"Anything for you, Little One. Anything," he whispered back.

"Are you alright?" Athos asked as he and Porthos moved up behind the pair, one on either side.

"I will be," d'Artagnan replied honestly. The knowledge that it was done, that it was finally over with, lifted a weight from his heart he had not even realized was there.

"Come sit down, love," Athos said. While d'Artagnan was nowhere near as bad as the first time, he was still shaky and Athos ached to soothe him.

"I need to dress his shoulder," d'Artagnan said.

"Let me," Porthos said. "This last time, just rest and let me see to him."

"Little One?"

"It's fine, Master," Aramis smiled softly. "Porthos will take good care of me. Let Athos take care of you now."

"Alright. But I am here if you need me."

"You always are."

&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M

Aramis bided his time, waiting two full days before putting his plan into motion. He knew d'Artagnan would not let him do much until his shoulder had at least begun to heal, so he spent his time planning instead. Their dear Whelp did not believe he loved him simply for the man he was. Aramis intended to prove otherwise. He was as dear to him today as when he had placed that first, hesitant kiss on his neck, long before he had taken up the mantle of Master. It his self-absorption, he had allowed him to forget. Now it was up to Aramis to remind him once more.

His lover had done so much for him, saving his life and his sanity both. For him to think for one second that he was not cherished simply for being d'Artagnan made Aramis' heart ache. It shamed him to know that the man who would have willingly sacrificed his very soul for him thought such a thing. If it was the last thing he did on this earth, he would make their youngest understand just how precious he truly was to him.

"Think Aramis will be able to convince him?" Porthos asked Athos. They knew their brother was working on how to get through to the man, but d'Artagnan was nothing if not stubborn.

"Do you doubt it?" Athos grinned. "I, for one, have not seen Aramis this determined in ages."

"Boy's not gonna know what hit him," Porthos grinned back.

Aramis waited until he knew d'Artagnan was outside working. After telling the others where he would be and asking them to give him some privacy, he headed for the barn. He was dressed in his breeches and his loosest shirt, aware of the way d'Artagnan's eyes always seemed to linger on him whenever he wore it. He realized he was probably being a trifle unfair but he didn't care. It may have been awhile since he had last attempted to win a lover's heart but he still remembered how to go about it. If d'Artagnan found the sight of him in a loose shirt...stimulating, then Aramis was happy to comply.

As expected, Aramis found him in the barn preparing to turn out the horses. He spent a moment just watching the younger man, taking in the sight of his lover's trim, sturdy body as he worked. His lovers always told him how pretty he was, yet d'Artagnan never failed to take his breath away. His heart clenched with the knowledge of how precious a gift this young man was and he vowed to make things right.

"Are you planning on watching me all day?" d'Artagnan mused without turning around. He had heard Aramis enter the barn and had been waiting for him to say something. Aramis' presence made him conscious of his actions in a way that the others' did not. Aramis so rarely joined him out here and when he did it was for little more than a brief talk.

"Just enjoying the view, my love," Aramis chuckled as he moved up behind the other man. He slid his arms around d'Artagnan's waist before he could turn and gently nuzzled at the side of his neck.

D'Artagnan moaned and let his head fall back against Aramis' shoulder. He had not expected such boldness from the man, more used to Little One's more passive nature. To be the one on the receiving end of such an advance was heady. Not that he minded. Far from it. It was as welcome as it was surprising. 

"Sounds like my dear Whelp missed me," Aramis remarked as he placed another soft kiss on d'Artagnan's neck. "Is that true, dear one? Did you miss me this morning?"

"I always miss you," d'Artagnan panted. "If you are no more than across the room, I still miss you." It was the truth, too. He always wanted this man close. He did so with all of his brothers, but with Aramis even more so. He was not sure why that was, perhaps it was simply the culmination of too many close calls, too many times he had nearly been lost to them all, that had him wanting to keep him tucked up against him, warm and safe. He supposed he could blame it on the Master in him, but he knew that wasn't the case. Not entirely at any rate. It was more the combination of everything. It was the Master, the brother, the lover and the friend.

"Oh love," Aramis whispered, closing his eyes against the onslaught of emotions his words brought on. "How can you not know how very precious you are to me?"

"Aramis?" D'Artagnan tried to pull away so he could turn around and face him but Aramis only tightened his arms, refusing to let him. 

"My sweet, over-protective Gascon," Aramis continued to whisper as he peppered his neck with kisses. "You have brought so much joy into my life. I no longer remember what life was like before you. I never want to imagine a life without you in it. I love you so very much, d'Artagnan. You are the part of me I did not even realize I was missing."

"Aramis!" D'Artagnan gasped. The man's lips upon his neck were nearly undoing him, but his words were having an even stronger effect. He could not recall the last time Aramis had spoken to him so, if he ever had. He had heard him say such things to Porthos and Athos before, but not to him. To hear him state his feelings so baldly made his heart give a lurch. "Why...why are you saying all of this?"

"Because it is true," Aramis replied with a last, soft kiss just behind his ear. "And I have been wholly remiss in not saying as much long before now."

They stayed as they were for a little bit longer until Aramis reluctantly released him. He did not return to the house, however. Instead, he stayed with d'Artagnan, helping him with the horses and whatever else he cared to work on. He was content to simply be near the other man.

As the morning wore on, d'Artagnan became less concerned about Aramis' unusual behavior, falling easily into the rhythm of his work. He was still keenly aware of his presence. If he was completely honest with himself, he rather enjoyed having Aramis with him. He had always found the man's presence to be soothing, even before all of this. It was one of the reasons he had fallen for the man so hard. The man's earlier words had thrown him a great deal but he was calming now as they settled into a comfortable silence.

"What are you thinking about, my love?" Aramis asked when he noticed d'Artagnan staring out toward the pasture.

"You," d'Artagnan replied. "About how nice this is, working and having you close at the same time."

Aramis set down what he had been working on and went to him. He slid his arms around his waist and rested his forehead against d'Artagnan's own. "I am here," he said softly, his breath ghosting over his lover's lips. "Whenever you have need of me. Whenever you desire me closer, you have but to say."

"I know."

When they began to make their way back to the house, Aramis' took d'Artagnan's hand in his and held it. D'Artagnan had been surprised at first then smiled shyly. He was not used to this, not used to such open displays of affection being bestowed upon him. It made him feel warm inside even if it did still discomfit him a bit as well. As they walked, he wondered if this was what Aramis had felt like when Athos first began making his interest known. He remembered the soft, shy smile he had seen on Aramis' face a few times back then and thought it must be.

Nearing the back of the house, Aramis slowed. He led d'Artagnan around to the side and pressed him back against the outer wall. Before he could say anything, Aramis leaned forward and kissed him. He did it carefully, savoring the soft sound of surprise his lover made. As they kissed, he brought his hands down to his lover's waist and let them rest there, holding him close.

For his part, d'Artagnan felt as if he was coming undone. The way Aramis was touching and holding him was making his heart pound and his stomach flip. He felt almost helpless as Aramis practically worshipped his mouth while he moaned and gasped. He had never felt so controlled, at least not without the hint of force. There was none of that here now. Aramis was controlling him through gentle touches, the sweet press of his lips, the eager clutching of his hands upon his hips. It was like nothing he had ever felt before. Not even with Athos.

"Love? What's wrong?" Aramis asked, pulling back. He had felt d'Artagnan start to shake and was worried.

"No-nothing," he stammered, reddening at falling apart so easily. He had not felt like this since his first awkward fumble in the hay loft of his father's barn. He felt completely out of his depth. It was no wonder Aramis had every woman in Paris practically begging for his attention. If he managed to make them feel even a fraction of what he was feeling now, he did not blame them.

"Oh," Aramis said, understanding suddenly. "I am no less affected, my love, believe me. My heart feels as though it will pound right out of my chest."

D'Artagnan pulled Aramis against him and held him, not wanting him to see how his words affected him yet again. "I love you so much," he whispered into his ear, needing to say the words and needing Aramis to hear them.

"Oh you sweet boy," Aramis gasped. "I assure you, it is no more than I do you."

&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M

With Aramis wrapped up in his plans to sweep d'Artagnan off his feet, Athos decided it was a good time for him and Porthos to spend some time together. They rarely got to focus on the two of them and Athos found himself yearning for that. He knew it was not because of any lack of desire on either of their parts, but rather the way things tended to work out. Aramis' plans presented the perfect opportunity for the two of them to concentrate on each other without feeling as though they were neglecting their other lovers. 

Athos found him in the kitchen preparing to head outside. He was working on repairing some furniture they had found stored in one of the rooms of the manor. Athos knew it was just busy work to keep him occupied so was not overly concerned with pulling him away from it for the day.

"Busy?" Athos asked as he came over and leaned against the table.

"Nah," Porthos grinned. "Just working on that furniture. Figure we could sell it if we didn't need it around here."

"So you wouldn't object to me distracting you today?" Athos grinned back.

"I never object to that, brother."

Taking him by the hand, Athos pulled Porthos toward the nearest bedroom. Once inside, he closed the door behind them, even going so far as to throw the bolt. It was not that he minded if the others stumbled upon them, but rather the desire to focus all of his attention on Porthos alone. Porthos was the backbone of their unorthodox family, strong and dependable. Athos wanted to spend some time showing him just how grateful, how thankful, he was to have him in his life. For as much as he loved Aramis and d'Artagnan, he loved Porthos just as much even if he did not show it as readily.

"You are thinking too much again," Porthos rumbled as he pulled Athos into his arms. 

"Hm, yes," Athos agreed, holding him back. "Thinking about how much you mean to me and how very glad I am to have you in my life. I know I do not say it often, but I love you, brother."

"You don't need to say it," Porthos said, touched by Athos' uncharacteristic words. "It is in everything you do, every move you make. I know you love me and you know that love is returned just as strongly."

Athos looked up at his lover's words. He could see the sincerity in Porthos' dark eyes as well as the love. He truly did not know what he had done to be blessed with men such as this in his life. To have even one man you knew you could rely upon come what may was rare. That he had found such three times over, and lovers to boot, was amazing.

"I do not tell you often enough, but you are one of the finest men I have ever known," Athos told him, all at once needing Porthos to understand all that he felt for him. "You deserve so much better than me, and I shall spend the rest of my days trying to be worthy of you."

"Athos," Porthos huffed, touched and embarrassed by his brother's words. "I am a gutter rat that somehow managed to make something of himself. You...you are more than worthy of me. It is I..."

"No," Athos said, refusing to even listen to such a thing.

Knowing better than to try to argue with Athos when he was like this, Porthos merely shook his head and leaned down to kiss him deeply. "I love you, too, brother," he said when he pulled away again. 

Athos smiled up at him as they held each other. "I would very much like to make love with you," he said after a few minutes. 

"I would like that as well," Porthos replied. 

"I thought, perhaps, we might use the cuffs d'Artagnan got for me," Athos offered hesitantly. "If you do not wish to, though, all you have to do is say."

"You would have me..."

"I would have you do whatever you wish," Athos told him. "My trust in you is absolute, Porthos. Allow me to show you as much."

"You do not have to prove anything to me," Porthos said, though his argument lacked any true heat. He could not deny that the thought of Athos laid out, his for the taking, was a heady one. He had played such games with Aramis and, to an extent, with the Whelp, but never with Athos. Still, he did not want the man doing this just to prove himself. 

"Perhaps I need to prove something to me," Athos offered. "But that is only part of the reason I suggested it. I... I have seen how much you like manhandling the others. I have wondered if you would not like something similar with me."

"I would," Porthos admitted. "But only if you want it for your own sake. You are neither Aramis nor d'Artagnan. I do not want you to push yourself into doing something you do not like simply because you think I want it."

"I know you want it, but I would not be asking if I did not want it as well. I told you before that I did not want this act to be onerous. Not between us."

"Never," Porthos breathed as he slid his hand into Athos' hair and pulled him back into a deep kiss.

A short while later, Athos found himself flat on his back, his hands held fast above his head by the leather cuffs around his wrists. Porthos sat between his splayed thighs grinning wolfishly at him. Athos had never before been on the receiving end of such a predatory look from the man and it made his heart beat faster.

"You look good like this," Porthos commented as he ran his hands over Athos' legs proprietarily. "All spread out just begging for me to take you."

Athos couldn't hold back his moan at Porthos' words. His hard cock jerked against his belly, leaving a sticky trail in its wake as he tugged futilely at the bonds holding him in place.

Porthos chuckled at the man's' reaction and ran his hand up his thigh, stopping well short of where Athos most wanted. "You want that, brother? You want me to just take what I want?"

"I want you to use me," Athos groaned. "Use me however you wish."

"You sure about that?" Porthos asked teasingly. "Last time I did that, Aramis limped for days."

"Fuck," Athos gasped. He well remembered the state Aramis had been in, unable to hardly move without feeling the after effects. The thought of being as thoroughly used by this man was nearly overwhelming. And while the more sane part of Athos' mind realized he should be nervous about such a prospect, he was not. For no matter how roughly Porthos might use him, he knew that he was, ultimately, safe.

Porthos waited, giving Athos time to let his words sink in. If he truly wanted this, Porthos would give it to him, but he needed him to be sure. Athos, after all, was not Aramis and he would die before he caused his brother true harm.

Meeting Porthos' eyes, Athos regarded him steadily before finally nodding. "I am yours. Take me as you would."

Porthos didn't hesitate after that. He surged forward covering Athos' body with his own. Sliding both hands into his hair, he pulled his head back exposing his throat. With a growl, he latched onto Athos' neck, sucking and biting his mark there for all to see. Athos' cry, born of equal parts surprise and pain, only served to fuel him on. That his brother would offer him this, would trust him so completely, stoked the fire inside of him into an inferno that he could not hold back.

Athos jerked hard in his bonds as Porthos attacked his neck. He could practically feel the mark his lover was leaving behind on him and it thrilled him. It thrilled him to know that he would be wearing Porthos' mark for all to see. For Aramis and d'Artagnan to see. It was a mark of ownership that could be mistaken for nothing else and Athos found himself glorying in it.

"Are you mine?" Porthos whispered harshly when he tore his mouth away from Athos neck. 

"Yes," Athos gasped at once. The feel of Porthos' body pressing him down into the bed, holding him in place just as securely as the cuffs about his wrists, made his body thrum. He tried to move, tried to thrust up against the other man, but Porthos' weight held him in place, keeping him from moving.

Porthos ground against him, making Athos feel how hard he was, how badly he wanted him. He could feel an answering hardness pressing into his own hip spurring him on. That Athos wanted this, that he trusted him enough to find pleasure in such a thing with him, was threatening to steal his ability to think of anything else. 

Not wanting to spend simply rutting against his lover, Porthos reluctantly drew back until he was once again sitting between Athos' splayed thighs. He took a moment to regard the other man, taking in the flush that extended all the way down his chest as well as his rapid breathing and hard and dripping cock. 

"So pretty like this," Porthos murmured as he stroked Athos' thighs again to help calm him some. He didn't want him to spend too soon, after all. "My pretty slut all spread out for me, just begging for me to take you. To use you."

"Yes," Athos moaned helplessly. While the man's hands attempted to soothe him, his words did just the opposite, stoking the fire inside of him into a blaze. His cock was already aching yet he knew he would not be granted release any time soon. No, he had turned himself over to his brother's hands and he would spend only when Porthos allowed him to.

Taking up the oil, Porthos slicked his fingers. With his other hand, he pushed Athos' leg up, baring him to his hungry gaze. He held his leg there, keeping him spread then let his slippery fingers ghost along his cleft. He kept his touch light, little more than a tease, and grinned when Athos mewled. Knowing his own patience would not last, Porthos stroked over his hole once then pushed his finger inside without preamble. 

Athos gasped aloud when he felt Porthos breech him. His already thick finger felt even bigger as it slid inside of him, forcing his body to yield to it. He locked eyes with his lover and the naked want, the blatant possessiveness, he saw there sent desire surging all throughout him. It pushed him to spread his own legs wider, baring as much of himself to his lover as he could. He wanted Porthos to take him, to own him as only he could.

"So good," Porthos whispered when Athos opened himself to him. "Got no idea how bad I want you." He began working his finger in and out of him, thrusting in hard and deep, stretching Athos. One finger quickly became two and when Porthos curled them Athos jerked hard in his bonds, shouting at the overwhelming sensation of Porthos' fingers stroking _that_ place inside of him.

"Please," Athos began to beg, his head thrashing back and forth. "Porthos, please."

"What is it?" Porthos asked as he continued to stroke over that spot inside of Athos that drove him wild. "Tell me what you want."

"Let me spend," Athos gasped. "Please, brother, let me spend."

"Not yet," Porthos told him. "Not until I say you can."

Athos nearly sobbed but he shook his head, letting Porthos know he would not disobey him. Not if he could help it. With the way Porthos was playing his body, though, he was not sure how much longer he could hold on. His cock felt ready to burst and his bollocks actually ached.

"Such a good boy," Porthos praised him. That Athos would obey him in this was a heady realization. He knew Aramis would and even the Whelp, but he had never dreamed that Athos would put himself so completely in his hands. 

"Your...your good boy," Athos gasped.

"You like that, don't you?" Porthos continued, unable to keep the edge of awe from his voice. "You like being my good boy. You like being mine."

"I love being yours," Athos told him, his eyes locking with Porthos' once again. "I would gladly be yours in any way you would have me to. You mean...you mean so _much_ to me, brother."

"Spend for me, Athos," Porthos growled. The man's words, and the honest sincerity he could see shining in his eyes, were nearly undoing him. He knew he meant the world to Aramis, but had not dreamed he mattered nearly so much to Athos. 

Athos froze for a second as Porthos' words registered then he was bucking up hard as his cock pulsed against his belly shooting his seed in thick rivulets across his stomach and chest. Even as he spent, he could feel Porthos' fingers thrusting inside of him still. It made his cock jerk and spend all the harder until he finally collapsed back against the bed, panting.

Porthos slowed the movement of his fingers when Athos finally spent himself though he did not stop completely. Athos wanted to be used by him, wanted Porthos to lay claim to him, and he intended to do just that. By the time he let him up from this bed, Athos would have no doubt that he belonged to Porthos fully.

"Gonna fuck you so good," Porthos told him as he pulled his fingers free. He ran them through the spend striping Athos' stomach, coating them. He grinned sharply when Athos sucked in a breath, knowing the man understood his intent. Keeping Athos' leg in place, he slid his wet fingers back inside him, coating his hole with his own seed. 

Once Athos was as slick as Porthos could get him, he used the last of the man's seed to coat his own hard cock. He moved up over him then and pressed the head of his cock against his relaxed hole. Before Athos had a chance to do more than draw in a breath, Porthos pressed forward, breaching him and pulling a long, low moan from deep inside him.

"Porthos," Athos breathed as he felt the bigger man entering him. His body was relaxed from his release just moments before, but it was still a stretch to take the man. It was always a stretch with Porthos, even when he was thoroughly prepared. Like this, it hovered right at the edge of too much. 

Porthos knew it was pushing it for Athos to take him like this, even as relaxed as he was. He stilled with little more than the head of his cock inside the man, giving him a chance to adjust. Gentle and tender was not what Athos, what either of them, wanted though and as soon as he felt the man's body start to loosen he pressed forward once more.

This time, he did not stop until he was all the way inside of him. When he looked down into Athos' eyes, he could see the strain it was putting on him as well as his determination to take it. Leaning down, he surprised Athos by kissing him deeply, thrusting his tongue into his mouth and taking it just as he was taking him everywhere else. 

Only when Athos was moaning into their kiss did Porthos pull back. He spared a last glance into Athos' eyes to make sure he was ready then he pulled back until only the head of his cock remained inside him. "Look at me," he commanded as he held himself still. 

Athos hesitated for only a second before meeting Porthos' eyes. He did his best to convey his willingness to the man using naught but his eyes. When he saw Porthos' own dark eyes go impossibly darker, he knew he had succeeded.

Porthos held Athos' gaze for a heartbeat then snapped his hips forward hard. The strangled shout he pulled from the man made his own bollocks throb and he began fucking him then, hard and fast, intent on taking what he wanted, claiming his lover as his own. By the time he was finished, Athos would know that he belonged to Porthos completely.

Athos' clenched his fists in his bonds as Porthos began fucking him. He had never been so roughly taken by the man. He could feel his own cock trying and failing to stir as the man rode him. Even the first time d'Artagnan had taken him had not been as intense as this. Porthos was using him, was taking of him what he wanted, and that knowledge made everything inside of him feel warm and _right_.

With both hands free, Porthos pushed Athos' legs up high and wide, allowing him to fuck into him as deeply as possible. Athos was making little panting grunts every time Porthos thrust into him. He could see his fists clenching over and over again as well and it only spurred him on to fuck him harder. Much sooner than he would have liked, he felt his release coiling inside of him. He tried to hold it off, but the way Athos was just taking it along with the look of almost complete surrender in his eyes was more than Porthos could withstand. With a shout, he slammed forward and began to spend, his cock spurting deep inside his lover and filling him with his seed.

"Thank you," Athos whispered as Porthos all but collapsed on top of him. He could still feel the man inside him, his cock slowly softening. He felt more than saw Porthos reach over his head then his hands were once more free. He wasted no time in wrapping his arms around the other man, holding him tight.

"Love you," Porthos whispered into his neck as he held him back as best he could. He knew he should get up and clean them both up but Athos' tight grip made it clear that he man did not want him to. That was fine with him. He didn't want so much as an inch between them at the moment either.

"Love you, too, brother," Athos managed after a moment. "So very much."


	5. Chapter 5

When d'Artagnan and Aramis finally made it inside, they found Athos and Porthos wrapped up together on the divan. The pair paused when they took in the sight of them. Porthos had his arms wrapped protectively around Athos who had dozed off leaning back against the man's chest. Aramis gave a questioning look, silently asking Porthos if something was wrong. Porthos merely shook his head, careful not to jostle Athos and wake him. Satisfied, the two moved back out of the room as quietly as they had entered it.

"It would seem they enjoyed their day as well," Aramis said as he and d'Artagnan began working on dinner. 

"It would," d'Artagnan agreed. He had not missed the livid mark on the side of Athos' neck. The mark that Porthos had quite obviously put there. He was glad the pair had taken some time for themselves. They so rarely did, it seemed. Yet, part of him kept returning to that mark. It wasn't that he minded Porthos marking Athos in such a way. He would be the worst sort of hypocrite to complain about something like that. Rather, it was the why of it that troubled him. Athos was not really one for such public displays. In fact, d'Artagnan did his level best never to put a mark on Athos that would show outside his clothes. Now he had to wonder if perhaps his lover would have welcomed such a thing after all.

"You are thinking rather loudly, my love," Aramis said as he leaned against the counter. He had stopped working and was simply watching the younger man. He could tell something was troubling him, but he had no idea what it could be.

"Sorry," d'Artagnan said without looking at Aramis. He wasn't sure how to talk about this or if he even should. The last thing he wanted was to make Athos self-conscious about it or think he minded in some way.

"What is it?" Aramis asked, refusing to let d'Artagnan brush aside whatever was bothering him.

With a sigh, d'Artagnan set down the knife he was using to peel potatoes and turned to face Aramis. "It is nothing, truly. Just...the mark on Athos' neck," he began, making sure to pitch his voice low enough that no one but Aramis would hear him. "I had not thought he cared for such things."

"And?" Aramis pressed. He thought he knew what was troubling the lad but wanted to hear him say it.

"And I find myself wondering why," d'Artagnan explained. "Why did he agree to it?"

"You do not mean to suggest that Porthos put such a mark on him against his will," Aramis said, the very thought sickening.

"No!" D'Artagnan said at once. "Of course not. He would never do something like that, especially to Athos. But was this something Athos wanted or was it more for Porthos' sake? And if it was something Athos wanted, then have I been remiss all this time?"

"D'Artagnan," Aramis sighed. "You are reading entirely too much into this. However, if it bothers you so then simply ask him about it. You know he will not lie to you."

"You're right, of course," d'Artagnan said and turned back to preparing their dinner. "I will speak with him later. I do not want either of them to think I have a problem with it, but I would like to know if I am failing to meet Athos' needs."

"I assure you, love, you are not failing Athos in any way," Aramis told him. "He adores you and feels blessed beyond measure that you are a part of his life. Just as I do."

&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M

"I could get used to this," Athos murmured as he came awake to the feel of strong arms around him, holding him close. He had thought at first it was d'Artagnan but he quickly recognized his brother's sizable bulk. The realization that Porthos was holding him, that he had been for who knew how long, made something warm and bright unfurl within him. He knew his brother loved him, that all of his brothers did, but such blatant displays of their caring never failed to effect him.

"So could I," Porthos said as he leaned down and placed a tender kiss to Athos' neck right over the mark he had left there.

"Dinner will be about an hour yet," Aramis said from the doorway leading to the kitchen. He had come in just as Porthos was kissing Athos and had paused, not wanting to intrude.

"And just what are you suggesting?" Porthos asked teasingly.

"Nothing at all," Aramis grinned. "I am merely letting you know that you have about an hour and that d'Artagnan and I will be thusly occupied during that time." With that, Aramis turned and disappeared back into the kitchen leaving the pair alone once more.

"I rather expected him to offer to join us," Athos mused.

"So did I. Guess he's still busy with the Whelp."

"I can help d'Artagnan if you would rather..."

"No," Porthos said as he tightened his arms around Athos' waist. He was enjoying his time with him and was in no hurry for it to end.

"I will not leave you, brother," Athos said softly as he gripped Porthos' arm. "I will stay here as long as you wish me to."

"I know you're gonna want your boy in a bit..."

"Porthos, I am as reluctant as you for our time together to end."

"Athos..." Porthos moaned as he nuzzled the side of his neck. His brother's words made him want to wrap the man in his arms and keep him there forever.

Athos felt desire reawaken in him as Porthos mouthed at his neck. He turned his head, baring the wide expanse of his throat to the other man. He felt more than heard Porthos' groan of pleasure, then that wicked mouth was right there, licking and sucking at his neck as if he intended to mark him all over again.

Summoning all of his willpower, Porthos made himself pull back. He could already see a second faint, red mark on Athos' pale skin. He had to clench his jaw shut at the sight of it, lest he end up covering the man in them. Even if Athos himself would allow such a thing, he did not think the others would be overly pleased.

"Why did you stop?" Athos gasped as he lay all but panting in Porthos' arms.

"I did not think you would appreciate being covered in such obvious marks," Porthos said as he struggled to get his own body under control.

"Did you hear me say stop?" Athos challenged.

"No," Porthos chuckled. "But your boy may not appreciate..."

"Do not stop yourselves on my account," d'Artagnan said, his sudden voice causing both men to go still. "Not if it is something you both want."

"Whelp..." Porthos began only for Aramis' voice to override him.

"I believe d'Artagnan and I shall take our room tonight," Aramis said, his tone making it clear that it was not up for debate. He rested his hand on d'Artagnan's arm then pulled him back toward the kitchen, intent on giving their brothers some privacy.

"We'll call you when dinner is ready," d'Artagnan said over his shoulder as he allowed Aramis to usher him along.

Alone once more, Athos maneuvered them until Porthos was stretched out on the divan and he was lying atop him looking down into concerned brown eyes. "He does not begrudge us this," Athos tried to reassure him as he stroked along his beard.

"I don't want to do anything to...well..."

"If you say 'overstep' I will bite you," Athos said dryly as he arched one elegant eyebrow. "And not in a way you will enjoy."

"Alright," Porthos laughed, relieved. Relief, however, quickly turned to something else and he gripped Athos' hips tightly.

Athos moaned aloud at the feel of Porthos' strong hands on his hips. The feel of the other man beneath him was causing his body to respond and he blushed at the thought of Porthos feeling how affected he was. When he felt Porthos' body start to respond in kind, he couldn't stop himself from pressing down, grinding their burgeoning erections together.

"You sure?" Porthos asked as his hands flexed on Athos' hips.

"Perhaps Aramis is not the only one who thrills to the sight of his lover's marks upon him," Athos said in reply. "Perhaps...perhaps he is not the only one who wants the world to know that he is not only desired but...claimed."

Porthos started up at Athos as he took in what the man was telling him. With a growl, he wrapped his arms around him and flipped them over on the divan so that his lover was now beneath him. Before Athos could do more than gasp, Porthos yanked his head to the side and latched onto his neck. His mouth found the faint mark he had left earlier and he bit down hard pulling a strangled cry from Athos as he set about marking him for all to see.

D'Artagnan stiffened when he heard Athos cry out from the other room. He refused to turn around, though, instead concentrating on the dinner he was supposed to be preparing. He gave a start when he felt Aramis' arms slip around him, the man's chin coming to rest on his shoulder, then sighed and relaxed back into his arms.

"If you are truly bothered..." Aramis began but d'Artagnan was already shaking his head.

"No. They deserve to have time together. I know Porthos is not harming him in any way."

"Can I ask why it seems to be bothering you so much? This is not the first time they have lain together. Nor is it the first time Athos has been the more passive partner."

"I'm not sure," d'Artagnan replied. "I think... I think it is because he is not normally so...obvious...in his pleasure. Athos has always been the most private of us. I guess I am simply not used to seeing him let go in such a manner."

"Alright," Aramis said. He didn't know if there was more to it or not. He was not sure if d'Artagnan even knew at this point. Regardless, he would do whatever he could to reassure their youngest. And if he was still discomfited by it come the morning, he would speak to Athos himself and let him know that d'Artagnan was...struggling.

By the time dinner was ready, Porthos and Athos had managed to get control of themselves again so that they were simply sitting together with Athos reclining against Porthos when Aramis came to get them. Porthos saw Aramis' eyes zero in on the fresh mark on Athos' neck and narrow slightly. He met his eyes, silently asking if there was a problem, but Aramis only turned away, heading back to where d'Artagnan awaited him. Athos cast an inquisitive glance at Porthos who merely shrugged as they got up to follow him.

As they ate, both Athos and Porthos kept glancing toward each other in the hopes that the other one might have figured out what was going on. For it was abundantly clear that _something_ was. D'Artagnan, while he did not seem visibly upset, was quiet. Far too quiet for any of their liking. From the way Aramis was all but hovering over him, he had noticed it as well.

Unable to sit by any longer, Athos cleared his throat. "D'Artagnan, if we have upset you in some way..." He began only for the younger man to shake his head vehemently.

"No," he said firmly. "You have not. Forgive me, brothers. I find myself preoccupied tonight."

"Alright," Athos said, letting it go for now. He did not altogether believe the other man but could see that he did not wish to talk about it. He could only hope that Aramis was able to get him to confide in him.

"Would you two mind cleaning up the kitchen tonight?" Aramis asked a few minutes later. He wanted to get d'Artagnan someplace private where they could talk and he could hopefully alleviate the worst of his misgivings.

Porthos and Athos both quickly agreed and before he could voice a complaint, d'Artagnan found himself being pulled up from the table and out of the room. He breathed a sigh of relief when Aramis took him right to their room, closing and even locking the door behind them. As soon as the door was secured, Aramis was back before him then the man was pulling him into his arms and holding him tight.

"I am being stupid, I know," D'Artagnan mumbled as he wrapped his arms around his lover's waist and leaned into him.

"You are never stupid, my love," Aramis told him. "But I do think you are reading more into this than there is."

"Really?" D'Artagnan asked flatly. "You saw the second one. Obviously it's something he wanted and I..."

"Had no idea," Aramis finished for him. "Because Athos did not say anything. You cannot read his mind. Nor can you meet a need you do not know exists."

"Maybe..."

"Maybe what?" Aramis pressed.

"Maybe he didn't tell me because he doesn't want it. You know...with me," he tried to explain.

"More likely, he did not even realize he wanted it until it was there," Aramis countered. "How any man could resist the thought of being covered in your marks is beyond me."

"Aramis," D'Artagnan huffed out a laugh.

"It is true, love," Aramis insisted. "Didn't I already tell you I would gladly wear any mark you wished to give me?"

"Little One," D'Artagnan said, pulling back to look into his eyes.

"No," Aramis shook his head. "Not Little One. Me. I would be honored to wear any mark you chose to give me. Honored, d'Artagnan. It is the same for all of my lovers, in truth."

"Does it bother you?" D'Artagnan asked suddenly. "That Porthos has marked Athos in such a manner, but not you?"

"I would not say bother," Aramis replied, ducking his head a bit as a blush stole across his cheeks. "Though I would be lying to say I was not, just a touch, jealous perhaps."

"Oh," D'Artagnan said, understanding. He opened his mouth to say more but Aramis shook his head again.

"Tonight is not for me," he said as he took a step back putting a small amount of room between them. He lifted one of d'Artagnan's hands and kissed it then began picking at the laces of his cuff to untie it. "Tonight you will allow me to show you how very special you are to me. Yes?"

"Al-alright," D'Artagnan stammered, unsure what else to say. He felt completely wrong footed, more out of his element than he could ever remember. Yet, surprisingly, he was not afraid. No matter what, this was Aramis and Aramis would never let him fall.

"Have I told you lately what an amazing man you have become?" Aramis said softly as he finished one cuff and went to work on the other. "You have risen to every challenge, no matter how great. And even when you have stumbled, you did not stop trying. You make me proud to stand by your side."

D'Artagnan flushed darkly and looked away. He was not used to hearing such praise, not directed at him and certainly not by a man he respected and admired as much as he did Aramis. He had told Athos before that the only person in his life before them to find him worthy of anything really had been his father. Yet even that did not come close to this. It unnerved him, practically unmanned him, to hear such sincere and honest praise. It left him unsure how to react, unsure what he should even be feeling right now.

"My love?" Aramis called softly as D'Artagnan continued to stare down at the floor. "What is wrong?"

"Nothing," D'Artagnan managed to get out, though his voice was choked with everything he felt but knew not how to say.

"Oh my dear, sweet boy," Aramis said as he pulled the younger man into his arms for a moment. "Have I been so horribly remiss that even this is too much?"

"Aramis, no," D'Artagnan said, drawing back enough so that he could look at the other man. "It..."

"It what?" Aramis asked. He felt shamed anew that after everything this man would still react so to such simple words from him.

"It is as I told Athos. Before you three, the only person to ever think me worth much of anything was my father. That you...that any of you..."

"Oh D'Artagnan," Aramis whispered, closing his eyes against the sudden sting of tears. When he opened them again a moment later, he found D'Artagnan eyeing him worriedly.

"Aramis..."

"Shh. Hush now," Aramis said gently as he blinked away the few remaining tears. "Your brothers have not done well by you. I have not done well by you. But that is going to change."

"How can you say that?" D'Artagnan asked, frowning. "The three of you have given me more than I had ever hoped for. And you...what I have found with you..."

"And still it is so much less than you deserve," Aramis told him. "You are precious to us, my love. You are precious to _me_. And I should be whipped for every day I did not ensure you knew that."

"No," D'Artagnan argued, shaking his head almost angrily at the thought.

"Listen to me," Aramis said sternly as he took D'Artagnan by the shoulders. He forced himself to take a deep breath and let go of his anger. It had no place here and would only hurt his lover more. "I am going to finish undressing you. Then you are going to get into bed where I can hold you properly. Then and only then will we continue this conversation."

D'Artagnan looked at him then, taking in the anxious yet determined look in his eyes. He thought about arguing, about pulling the mantle of Master back around him, but he hesitated. Aramis was never so forceful, not with him. For him to behave as such now gave testament to how distressed he was. "As you wish," he replied instead, inclining his head in capitulation.

Aramis swallowed thickly, relieved and rather surprised he had acquiesced. Not wanting to give him a chance to change his mind, he quickly went back to work on his shirt, unlacing it and pulling it over his head and off. He made even quicker work of the man's breeches and when D'Artagnan was down to his smalls, bade him get into bed while he stripped as well. Down to his own smalls, Aramis climbed into the bed beside him. Once there, he pulled D'Artagnan to him so that the younger man was lying half atop him, his head pillowed against Aramis' chest.

“I love you so very much,” Aramis began, choosing get his words carefully. He was almost desperate to make d’Artagnan understand his worth to him. To all of them, really, but to him in particular. “You have done so much for me. You have done things I did not even think possible. The care you take with me, it nearly brings me to my knees. And all of this you do for a man that, at first, showed you nothing but jealousy and mistrust.”

“Aramis,” d’Artagnan began but Aramis tightened his arm around him, attempting to cut off his words. D’Artagnan, however, refused to allow it this time. Pushing up on one arm, he glared down at Aramis until he went still. “You were jealous before, yes, but you never showed me mistrust. You never made me feel…”

“I made you feel as if we would cast you out,” Aramis snarled.

“No,” d’Artagnan said firmly. “I made me feel that way. My own insecurities and doubts. Not you. Never you. And the very moment you knew how I felt, you came to me. You came to me and you made yourself plain. And you trusted me. When another would have warned me off, would have kept me away, you pulled me close instead.

“Sometimes… sometimes I do not know how to contain all of the love I feel for you. It feels like it will explode out of me. You are more precious to me than I have the words for. You. All of you. Every one of your selves. They are each infinitely precious to me because they are each a part of you, of what makes you the man you are, and I would want you no other way.”

“Do you not realize it is the same for me?” Aramis asked as he stared up at him. “You have sheltered and protected me without hesitation, no matter the cost to yourself.”

“Little One means more to me than… than anything. I could not bear to lose him. So, if your Master is what you need me to be, then I will don that cloak and gladly.”

“d-d’Artagnan…” Aramis gasped. He had no idea what to say. His words stymied him. What he was saying… He could not bear to lose Little One. But what of Aramis?

“It’s alright,” d’Artagnan said as he settled back down against him, his head once more on his chest. This time, he could easily hear Aramis’ too rapid heartbeat. “Do not question it. Not now. Only know that it is the truth.”

“I will do as you ask and let it go. For now. But my Master is not all I need of you. Yes, I… I need that. At times, I need it quite badly, but that is not all I need of you. Not at all. I need you, d’Artagnan. You. Just as you are, impetuous and rash and bold and brave and beautiful.”

“You are the beautiful one,” d’Artagnan replied. He felt Aramis tense under him and stilled.

“Not anymore I am afraid,” he said, trying and failing to sound as if it did not matter.

“You are the most beautiful person I have ever known,” d’Artagnan told him. “Inside and out. You think these marks upon you somehow tarnish that in some way. You could not be more wrong. Where you see flaws and ugliness, I see strength and faith. There will never be another more beautiful. Not in my eyes.”

Aramis opened his mouth but no words came out. He could feel tears stinging his eyes yet again, but this time he did not fight them, wholly unable to. He knew how it would be when they finally returned to Paris. He was not naive. He knew others would take one look at him and turn away in revulsion. Up until this moment, he had been dreading it. Now… now, he found himself no longer caring so much what others might think of him. Not as long as this boy… this man… still found him beautiful.

“Are you alright?” d’Artagnan asked when Aramis had fallen silent for long minutes.

“No,” Aramis huffed out a laugh. “I am supposed to be comforting you. Not the other way around.”

“You have,” d’Artagnan told him. It was the truth. Aramis had comforted him, but then again Aramis’ mere presence was a comfort to him most of the time. 

Aramis didn’t argue. Instead, he turned them so that they were lying on their sides facing each other. “Tell me something,” he began, his eyes scanning his lover’s face.

“Anything.”

“We have seen the marks on Athos and must conclude that he enjoys their presence. You know that I am of a similar mind. What of you? I do not believe we have ever placed marks such as those upon you. Is that something you would like? Do you thrill to the thought of wearing such outward signs of your lovers’ passion as well?”

“I…” d’Artagnan began then stopped. Aramis was eyeing him intently, so much so that he had to look away as he fought to process all of the emotions flooding him at once.

“D’Artagnan…”

“Yes,” he whispered, his hand on Aramis’ hip tightening unconsciously. The thought of that, of being marked so blatantly, of everyone knowing that he was loved, that he was wanted, was like a wild thing trying to claw its way out of his chest. 

He was concentrating so hard on trying to calm himself that he started when Aramis grasped his chin and gently lifted his face. The look in Aramis’ eyes was hard to decipher. There was love and caring and no small amount of concern. Under it all, however, was a heady amount of lust. Apparently Aramis found the thought of him covered in his lovers’ claiming marks equally arousing.

Pressing d’Artagnan onto his back, Aramis surged over him. He slid one hand up into his hair and pulled his head back, forcing him to bare his neck. “You are mine,” he said, his voice deep and low, as he leaned down and nuzzled at the younger man’s neck.

“Ohhh…” d’Artagnan cried out as Aramis’ began mouthing gently along his throat. The first press of those blunt teeth against him made his whole body stiffen as he cock hardened painfully quickly. Before he had time to process it, Aramis was biting down and sucking hard, his intent clear and d’Artagnan could not help but moan and try to bare his neck to him even more.

Aramis could feel d’Artagnan shaking beneath him as he kept up his onslaught. He bit and sucked all up and down his neck, leaving livid purple marks in his wake. D’Artagnan’s darker skin meant he had to work at it a bit more than he normally would have but he did not mind. To feel the younger man all but shaking apart beneath him from nothing but his mouth upon his neck, made his own body ache in want. He would show his lover that there was more to them than simply Master and Little One. He would show him that he was loved for who he was and he would show him what all he, Aramis, had to offer him in return. 

“Aramis… please…” d’Artagnan moaned as he felt another bruise being sucked into his neck. Every press of blunt teeth, every hard suck against his skin sent another jolt of desire straight to his cock. He reached up trying to push Aramis back and moaned even louder when his hands were grabbed and pressed back into the mattress making it clear he would get no reprieve until Aramis saw fit to grant it.

“Taste so good in my mouth,” Aramis said, his words ghosting across d’Artagnan’s spit-damp skin, making him shiver. “Feel so good beneath me. Oh love, I want you so much.”

“Yours,” d’Artagnan managed to gasp, his voice rough and broken. “Take… take what you want.”

“No,” Aramis whispered. “No taking. Not tonight. This is for you, my love. All for you. Tell me, is there somewhere else you wish to wear my mark?”

“Everywhere,” d’Artagnan said, offering himself at once.

“Mine,” Aramis growled again as he covered d’Artagnan’s mouth, kissing him hard. He shoved his tongue into the other man’s mouth, forcing it inside and pulling a moan of surrender from him. He spent long minutes simply kissing him then, stroking his tongue as he took every inch of his lover’s mouth.

Finally letting go, he began kissing his way down his neck to his chest. He still held d’Artagnan’s hands in a firm grip, keeping them pinned to the bed. Taking a quick glance into his eyes, he saw they were blown wide with a combination of lust and shock. Porthos’ words came back to him then, reminding him that d’Artagnan was not often on the receiving end of such aggression from his lovers. No, the only one to really treat him with any degree of roughness was Porthos. No wonder the boy looked so delightfully bewildered.

Deciding it was long past time d’Artagnan be the object of possession for once, Aramis began to lavish attention on his chest. He bit down hard, soothing the sting with his tongue, then sucked another bruising mark into the muscle there. Just like he did with his neck, he sucked a line of bite marks all the way down to his nipple. He eased up a little then, laving and sucking the small nub but refraining from biting down on it. He didn’t want to actually hurt the man, not in a way that would not feel good.

“Please,” d’Artagnan moaned when he felt Aramis sucking on his nipple so carefully. When he realized he wasn’t going to bite, not there, he flushed and shuddered, his body suddenly aching for the sting of it. “Bite… please…”

Aramis froze at d’Artagnan’s soft entreaty and had to squeeze his eyes shut against the sudden wave of desire that washed over him. He glanced up, intending to ask if he was sure, but the look of want on the other man’s face told him all he needed to know. Dropping his head once more, he sucked at the slightly swollen nub again then carefully caught it between his teeth. He hesitated a second then bit down and sucked.

D’Artagnan felt as if Aramis’ mouth on his nipple was somehow connected to his cock. The bright, hot spark of pain lanced through him, making him cry out and buck hard beneath the other man. His cock felt as if Aramis had bitten down on it and it was on the tip of his tongue to beg the man to do just that. Then Aramis was sucking hard and d’Artagnan forgot about everything else.

Aramis heard d’Artagnan whimper when he finally released the tortured flesh from between his teeth. He quickly began mouthing his way across his chest, earning him a high-pitched keen when he latched on to his lover’s other nipple. He didn’t wait for d’Artagnan to ask this time. Instead, he laved and sucked the little nub then bit down hard on it. 

When d’Artagnan felt Aramis release him, he wanted to cry. Then the man was making his way across his chest, licking and nipping at him as he went. When he felt his mouth close over his untouched nipple, he couldn’t help but cry out as his cock jerked against his belly. At the first hint of Aramis’ teeth, he froze, his entire body suddenly taut. Before he could even make a sound, he bucked up hard, his cock thrusting against nothing but air, and began to spend in his smalls. 

Aramis had a moment to wonder what was wrong when d’Artagnan suddenly went still, then the younger man was bucking beneath him and gasping. Aramis knew right away that he had made the man spend and felt his own cock throb in want. That he had made their youngest spend like this, from nothing more than his mouth sucking biting marks into his flesh, made him moan himself as he continued to help his lover ride out his release.

Finally spent, d’Artagnan collapsed back against the bed with a whimper. He was relieved when Aramis immediately stopped what he was doing and placed a last, gentle kiss to his abused flesh. With his eyes squeezed shut, he felt rather than saw Aramis rise from the bed, but he quickly returned and began pulling his soiled linen off and wiping him down, mindful of the areas where he had left bruises behind.

Once d’Artagnan was cleaned up, Aramis toss the cloth aside and stretched out beside him once more. He gathered his now naked lover in his arms and held him as d’Artagnan trembled through the aftermath of his intense release.

“It's alright,” Aramis soothed as he held d'Artagnan and tried to ease him. He could understand his reaction. Their youngest was not used to being on the receiving end of such intensity. He was normally the one orchestrating it for either him or Athos. That d'Artagnan was having some difficulty processing everything was only to be expected.

“Oh God,” D'Artagnan moaned. His entire body felt like it was on fire. Even now, he still felt faint tremors wrack his body. 

“Easy,” Aramis whispered, pulling him tighter still in an effort to help ground him once more. “You're alright. I'm here. I have you.”

“I've never...” D'Artagnan began only to trail off helplessly, unable to put his scrambled feelings into words at that moment.

“I am sorry, love. I didn't mean to overwhelm you this badly,” Aramis said, feeling slightly chagrined. 

“Don't...don't apologize,” D'Artagnan moaned. As he pressed himself into his lover's side, he felt the unmistakable outline of Aramis' own neglected arousal pressing into him. “Oh! I should have... Let me...”

“No,” Aramis said as he took d'Artagnan's hand to stop him from reaching for him. “Tonight was for you.”

“But you didn't spend,” D'Artagnan said, frowning.

“No,” Aramis shook his head. “But it will do me no harm. My arousal will subside shortly.”

“You don't want me?”

“I always want you,” Aramis corrected quickly. “Always. In every way you can imagine and some I am quite sure you cannot. But tonight was for me to begin showing you exactly how important you are to me. I can only hope I have succeeded at least somewhat.”

“You did but...did you not want to do that?” D'Artagnan asked. “I don't want you to force yourself...”

“Force myself?” Aramis cut in. “Did I not just say I wanted you in _every_ way you could imagine? That includes writhing beneath me and spending from nothing but the feel of my mouth on you.”

D'Artagnan blushed at that, a bit embarrassed to have spent himself from that alone and so violently to boot. He knew he was nowhere near the consummate lover that Aramis was but he hated it when he showed himself to be more boy than man.

“You are adorable when you blush,” Aramis told him, smiling softly. “Though I am unsure why exactly you are blushing.”

“I... What you said,” he tried to explain though it caused him to blush even more. “That I spent myself from nothing more than that. It is no wonder you all still call me a boy half the time.”

“Oh no. No, no, no,” Aramis said. “Do you have any idea how it makes me feel to know that my touch alone brought you such pleasure? It is no secret that I have had many lovers in my time. None have ever made me feel as desired, however, as you do. 

“And we do not call you a boy because we think you one,” he went on. “It is more wishful dreaming on our parts. We would see you keep your youthful innocence for as long as possible. We call you boy in our misguided attempt to help you do so. If you do not like it, I will speak to the others and we will stop.”

“No,” D'Artagnan said, smiling to himself. “I understand your desire not to see all of my innocence stripped from me. I will not take that from you, even if we do both know it is far too late to do anything about it.”

“I do know that,” Aramis admitted. “And I thank you for allowing us the pretense. I am only sorry our attempts came far too late.”

“But they didn't. They may not have been entirely successful, but I always understood what you were trying to do. Even when I railed against it, I understood the root of it and I did not blame you. Not for wanting to do it in the first place nor for ultimately being unable to.”

“How can you say such things yet not believe that we...that I find you more precious than air?” Aramis asked him, truly unable to comprehend it. 

“I think I am starting to,” D'Artagnan offered. “But it is as I said before. I am unused to anyone finding me of value regardless of my efforts. That a man I respect as much as I do you would do so, would not only find me of value but that I would be precious in his eyes... It is somewhat difficult for me to believe.”

“Then I shall keep telling you until you do. Every day, in fact. You will know that you are loved and cared for and valued beyond measure and you will continue to be as long as I draw breath.”

They fell asleep not long after that, d'Artagnan still wrapped up snugly in Aramis' arms. Aramis had watched the younger man slowly succumb and had vowed that he would not waste time blaming himself but instead concentrate on repairing the damage that had been done. He considered for a moment just letting it go, simply accepting that what was between them was no more than d'Artagnan's mastery of him. He quickly disregarded that option, though. Even if the thought was not abhorrent to him, d'Artagnan deserved better than that and Aramis intended to see that, for once, he got exactly what he deserved.

&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M

"Mmm. Good morning," Porthos said as he came awake to the feel of Athos gently kissing his chest. He sucked in a breath when Athos rose up above him, revealing the surprising number of marks Porthos had left him with. They varied in color from a light red to a deep purple-black and Porthos cringed a bit at how visibly he had marked the man.

"None of that," Athos admonished softly, smiling down at his lover even as he felt a faint blush steal over his cheeks. "I enjoyed every mark you put on me and you know it."

"Yes," Porthos agreed. "But I am unsure how much you will enjoy other people's reactions. You are a very private man, brother. To display yourself in so flagrant a manner is not your way."

"Perhaps not, but I will have you and the others with me. I doubt anyone will be so foolish as to make comment where I can hear it. And that is assuming we encounter anyone before these have faded away."

"What makes you think I intend to let them fade?" Porthos asked huskily. He felt Athos freeze above him then the man closed his eyes and dropped his head, panting hard at Porthos' words.

"You are a fiend," Athos gasped as he bit back a moan. That Porthos would mark him like this was one thing, but for the man to infer that he would keep doing so, that he would not allow the marks upon him to fade to oblivion, made Athos' blood race. 

"You like that thought," Porthos observed, a bit surprised at his lover's reaction. He had said it more as a tease and to test the waters. Apparently the waters were quite inviting.

"Yes," Athos managed as he fought to control himself. His body, it would seem, was quite onboard with Porthos' plan. 

"Brother," Porthos growled as he reached up and slid his hand into Athos' shaggy hair. He gripped him hard and pulled his head back, forcing the man to look him in the eyes. "I will gladly cover you in my marks every single day."

"Will you..."

"Will I what?" Porthos asked when Athos trailed off. He gave his head a little shake and felt a bolt of lust run through him when Athos moaned at the rough handling.

"Will you put them everywhere?" Athos asked. He could feel his face heating as he voiced his desire. To him, he sounded like a whore begging to be used. The delicious humiliation of it made his cock start to fill as he blushed even darker and tried in vain to look away.

"Look at me," Porthos demanded, his voice taking on a stern edge. He was gratified when Athos' eyes snapped to his at once, his obedience plain to see. "I will put them everywhere you want them. Everywhere I want them. Even your pretty cock won't be safe."

"Porthos," Athos gasped, his body bucking forward without thought as his words slammed into him like fists. He remembered how much it hurt when Porthos sank his teeth into him, especially the more tender areas. He could not imagine how it would feel to have Porthos sink his teeth into him there, to have him bite and suck and mark him. Would he feel it later? Of course he would, but for how long? And would it feel different when his cock was soft instead of hard? He tried to think of what it would feel like if he attempted to fuck one of them with Porthos' brushing mark still livid on his cock. The jag of lust that very thought sent through him was so strong he had to reach down and grip himself for fear of spending then and there.

"And you really like that," Porthos said, amusement coloring his words. He looked Athos up and down, raking his eyes over him. He made sure the other man could see the desire in him, could see the lust that those same thoughts filled him with. 

"I am yours, brother," Athos said, repeating his words of the previous day. "I am yours to have as you wish."

"Yeah, you are," Porthos agreed. All at once, he tightened his grip and rolled them over so that Athos was beneath him. Staring down at him, he saw his eyes go wide with surprise then darken with lust. He ground his own growing erection against the man's leg, letting him know that he was just as affected.

"Oh," Athos moaned. His body was on fire. He still ached from Porthos less than gentle handling the night before and now his lover seemed intent on picking up where they had left off. Spreading his legs in invitation, he relaxed beneath the bigger man, his surrender clear.

"Tell me what got you so hot," Porthos commanded. He didn't miss the way Athos' eyes flashed at being ordered about and made a mental note to see if his lover wished to explore that with him more. For now, though, he would simply go with his instincts.

"The thought...the thought of what it would feel like...after," Athos replied.

"After?" Porthos pressed, both wanting to understand and wanting to see just how red he could make Athos. The man did enjoy being humiliated after all.

"Later on," Athos tried again. "I wondered how it would feel later. I... Oh God. I wondered what it would feel like if I tried to...to fuck one of the others with your mark upon me there." By the time he got the words out he was flushed all the way down to his chest. The idea, though, of fucking one of his brothers with Porthos' mark still aching and throbbing was too good to pass up.

"Oh yeah," Porthos groaned, imagining it himself now. It would be almost painful for Athos to fuck one of them after having bruises sucked into his cock. Every thrust, every squeeze of his partner's body, would remind him of Porthos' mark. It was enough to make him want to hold the man down and do it now just to see if the reality would be even half as amazing as the fantasy of it.

"Not...not now," Athos said as if reading Porthos' mind. 

"When?" Porthos growled.

"When the others are here," Athos panted. "I want them to...to watch while you do it. I want them to see me writhing beneath you as you put your marks on every part of me."

"You want Aramis and your boy to see me staking my claim," Porthos said baldly. "You want them to see me taking what's mine. You want them to know you belong to me."

"Yes," Athos moaned unable to deny Porthos' words. He did want that. All of it. He wanted his lovers to know he was wanted, craved even, and by more than just them. It wasn't that he wanted to make either of them jealous. It had more to do with Athos' own feelings of desirability and lack of same at times.

"Might have to restrain your boy," Porthos chuckled darkly. He could just imagine d'Artagnan's reaction to seeing Athos held down and simply taken. The boy might have put his own marks on Aramis but he had not done so in front of him. He had not tried to make Porthos watch it. 

Athos looked at Porthos at that, studying him. "That thought pleases you," he said long moments later. "You like the thought of restraining d'Artagnan and ravishing me while he looks on, helpless to stop it."

"There are times when I am not a very good man," Porthos said as he met Athos' eyes and held them. "Sometimes, I'm a very bad man. Do you want to see just how bad of a man I can be, brother?"

"Yes," Athos answered at once. He did want that. He wanted Porthos to let go, to stop holding himself back. He wanted to see what it was like when Porthos did away with his careful guise of civility. He wanted to see what it was like to be taken. And there was no one he trusted to do that more than Porthos.

&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M

"Good morning, my love," Aramis said as d'Artagnan slowly came awake. He had not moved during the night, staying wrapped up tight in Aramis' arms. He could not deny how good it had felt, both to go to sleep that way and to awaken that way come the morning. The fact that Aramis had held him close all throughout the night left d'Artagnan with a warm feeling inside. 

Unable to think of anything worthwhile to say, he leaned upward instead and pressed a soft kiss to Aramis' lips. He smiled at the man's startled gasp but he did not deepen the kiss. This was enough. Just lying here, like this, feeling Aramis' arms around him and holding him in return was more than enough.

"Precious boy," Aramis said shaking his head when d'Artagnan pulled away. "I love you, too."

Smiling broadly, d'Artagnan settled back down against him. He knew they needed to get up and begin their day, that Athos and Porthos would likely be looking for them soon if they did not, but he was not quite ready to give this up. Not yet.

"As long as you wish," Aramis whispered.

Finally, d'Artagnan forced himself to pull back from Aramis' embrace. Their lovers really would come looking for them if they stayed in bed much longer. He was a bit surprised that Aramis seemed as reluctant to end their time together as he was. He had expected the man to be growing eager to return to Porthos and Athos, having devoted far too much of his time to him of late.

"Spending time with you is not a hardship, d'Artagnan," Aramis told him, reading his mind for the second time that morning. "You are not less in my eyes than my other lovers. I get as much, if not more, from being with you as I do from either Athos or Porthos."

"It is no hardship for me either," D'Artagnan told him, needing Aramis to know how much this meant to him, how much he meant to him. Athos may be his soul mate, but what he had with Aramis he knew he would never have with another and that was not even taking his status as the man's Master into account.

When they came out into the sitting room, they found Athos and Porthos lounging on the divan much as they had expected to. What was unexpected, however, was the sheer wealth of marks that decorated Athos' body. They were dotted over his neck and throat. A set of teeth marks could even be seen around his Adam's apple. A glimpse downward showed that they were not confined to just his neck either as hints of red and purple peeked out from the folds of his shirt.

Both men stopped in their tracks, taking a moment to digest what they were seeing. Aramis felt d'Artagnan start to draw back a bit and quickly grasped his hand. He gave it a careful squeeze, offering his silent support as their youngest struggled with what he saw as the evidence of his failure to meet his lover's needs.

"Looks like we weren't the only ones to enjoy our night," Porthos said carefully as he attempted to break the strained tableau. He had seen the look in the boy's eyes but couldn't decipher it. He knew the lad wasn't upset with them. It wasn't in his nature to begrudge his lovers something they so obviously wanted. That left him at a bit of a loss as to what was actually bothering him. 

What he had not missed, though, was the livid marks adorning d'Artagnan's own body. Aramis' marks were all over the boy's neck. One of them was so dark it looked almost black. Porthos knew that one had to still be tender at the very least. He also caught a glimpse of the boy's own open shirt, spying the fainter marks that adorned the lad's chest. They had made good use of their time, indeed.

"It wasn't supposed to be a contest, love," Porthos chuckled as he mentally compared the marks on the two men.

"Was it not?" Aramis replied softly. He had not really meant it as such but now that Porthos had said it, he could recognize the element of challenge inherent in it. Swallowing hard, he had to look away. It was not that he minded the marks on Athos in the least. But he knew himself and his penchant for jealousy. This time was no different. He had told d'Artagnan that he would not object to all of his lovers covering him with their marks. What he should have said was that he actually craved it. To feel the tangible, unmistakeable proof of their want of him, their love and desire, was something he found himself aching for. But how did he express such a thing without seeming...needy?

"Aramis?" Athos called out when their lover failed to say any more. "Is something wrong?"

"No," Aramis said shaking his head ruefully and giving d'Artagnan's hand another squeeze. "I do hope you do not overly object to...anything."

"Of course not," Athos said, his brow creasing in slight confusion. "It would be rather hypocritical of me, all things considered."

"Hypocritical or no, one cannot always control, or even predict, how one will react to something," Aramis said. His words were somewhat formal, much more so than he normally was with his brothers. It was a defense mechanism he automatically employed whenever he felt off kilter. He did not mean to fall back on it now, with these men, but it was ingrained in him to do so and he could not manage to stop himself. 

"Love?" Porthos said, frowning himself now as he sat up more fully. A quick glance back at the Whelp showed him to be as pensive as Aramis. "Whelp?"

"Forgive us," D'Artagnan said, letting go of Aramis' hand and approaching the divan. "We are not bothered by your...activities and hope you both feel likewise. It merely caught us off-guard. And..."

"And?" Athos asked, sitting up himself now as he regarded their lovers. 

"And I find myself wondering how long this need in you has gone unmet," D'Artagnan explained. "Have I failed to give you what you need in this regard? Or is it only Porthos' marks you wish to wear?"

"D'Artagnan, no," Athos shook his head, realizing now what was troubling the younger man so much. "It... I did not even realize... Not until it was done really. And I do want you in such a manner. I want you in all ways. Surely you know that."

"I do know you want me," D'Artagnan replied. "But there is no rule that says you must want each of us in the same way. If you only wish this with Porthos, or Porthos and Aramis, I understand. Stop looking so worried, love. There has been no misstep here. I only hope you do not mind seeing Aramis' own marks so vividly on me."

"Listen to me," Athos said as he stood up and closed the short distance between them. "There is no way in which I do not want you. You did not fail to meet any need in me. At least none that I knew of, none that I showed you. 

"And, for the record, I will never complain of Aramis' marks upon you. The sight of them, well, chastising you is not what they make me want to do."

"And you, Aramis?" Porthos called out, wanting to make sure that all was well with him, too. 

"What of me?" Aramis asked though he smiled softly as he did, letting Porthos know with a look that there was no need for worry.

"You truly do not mind seeing..."

"No," Aramis said. "The sight of Athos in such a state does not upset me. Quite the opposite, in fact. It makes me...makes me yearn."

"Oh," Porthos said, finally understanding what the look in Aramis' eyes had been. He was not upset or even jealous. Not really. If Porthos had to choose a single word to describe him just then, he would call it wistful. That, at least, he could do something about. And he would, as soon as Aramis gave him the opportunity to.

Wanting to get away from the manor for a little while and seeing how unsure d’Artagnan still looked, Aramis suggested they forego breakfast and instead have a picnic in the glade. It would allow them to all spend some time together while still allowing him to focus on d’Artagnan. He did not, after all, want his other lovers to start to feel neglected in same way simply because he was focusing the majority of his attention on their youngest. 

Athos had started to beg off, not wanting to intrude and somehow hamper Aramis’ plans. Porthos cut him off before he could and Athos had gracefully acquiesced. He was not sure why Porthos thought it important for them to be there but he obviously did. Besides which, Athos did not mind. He enjoyed spending time with his brothers in whatever the manner. And watching Aramis slowly whittling away d’Artagnan’s defenses was as entertaining as it was endearing.

It wasn’t until they had almost reached the glade that Aramis realized his choice of venue might not have been the best one. For him, the glade brought many things to mind – peace, tranquility, and not the least of all, his brothers. He had not stopped to think that it might be different for the others. Especially d’Artagnan.

“We can go elsewhere if you would rather,” Aramis said softly, pausing just outside the perimeter of the tranquil little place he had taken for his own.

“It is fine,” d’Artagnan said, shaking his head. He had not meant for his lover to pick up on his agitation. He should have known he could not hide something like this from Aramis. 

“What’s wrong?” Porthos asked as he and Athos drew near. They had picked up on d’Artagnan’s growing reluctance the closer they had gotten and were starting to worry.

“I did not think about what memories d’Artagnan might associate with this place,” Aramis said, getting right to the heart of the matter. “It has only ever brought me peace and contentment. Even when… Even during that time, it was, ultimately a positive experience for me. That is not the case for d’Artagnan.”

“Oh,” Athos said, understanding now what the problem was. He had not thought about what being back here again might remind the younger man of. It was not the same for him and Porthos, for he knew both of them had very happy encounters with Aramis here. He did not think that was the case for d’Artagnan. And even if it was, the brandings had been so horribly traumatic for their youngest, he was not surprised that he still struggled with the memories.”

“I am fine,” d’Artagnan told them. He smiled when he saw all three of them give him somewhat disbelieving looks. He took Aramis’ hand and held it, letting the feel of his lover standing beside him, strong and whole, bolster him now. “They are but memories.”

“I’m sorry,” Aramis said. “I had not meant to remind you of that time. I know it was hellish for you. I think it was even worse for you than it was for me. We can go elsewhere.”

“No,” d’Artagnan said firmly. “This is your place. You are most at peace here. I will not allow mere memories, of all things, to chase us from it.”

“I do not wish to cause you pain. Not anymore. Not because of this. You have suffered enough in your quest to make me whole again.”

“Have I not told you? There is nothing I would not do for you. Nothing, Aramis. And seeing you free of her, free of that hateful reminder, is more than worth the pain it caused me.”

“D’Artagnan,” Aramis whispered. He had to look away quickly to keep him from seeing the sudden brightness in his eyes. 

“Come on,” Porthos said, taking the blankets from Aramis. “Let’s get these spread out then we can sit down and talk some more if you want.”

Leaving d'Artagnan in Aramis' care, Porthos and Athos spread out the blankets and laid out the food they had brought. Once everything was set up, they stood back and waited for Aramis to bring d'Artagnan over and get settled before sitting down across from them. Athos had started to sit down next to the pair, but had chosen to stay beside Porthos instead, wanting to ensure Aramis felt free to continue his campaign to woo d'Artagnan without him being in the way.

"I think you two need to make some better memories here," Porthos suggested as he took in the pair. Aramis was reclining on the blanket with d'Artagnan pulled back against his chest. Aramis had one hand across his chest, keeping him held close and the other was wrapped around his middle, his fingers lightly stroking up and down in a soothing gesture.

"I agree," Athos said as he watched the pair fondly. The gentle care Aramis was taking with their youngest made his heart melt. Too often it was d'Artagnan tending to one of them, shepherding and cosseting them at almost every turn. It was nice to see him being taken care of for once and no one was better at taking care of a lover than Aramis. 

"You are smiling," D'Artagnan said, observing Athos watching them. 

"I am," Athos replied. "It is nice to see you being treated as you deserve for once. It makes my heart glad. I am only sorry it has been so long in coming."

"Athos, no," D'Artagnan said. He started to sit up but Aramis tightened his hold, refusing to let him. 

"Hush, my love," Aramis told him gently. "Athos is right. It has been far too long in coming but I am rectifying that now. And I will never be so careless again. Not with your heart, dear one."

"You have never been careless. Not with me."

"But I have," Aramis insisted. "I have allowed you to forget all that you are to me. And, in doing so, have run the risk of actually losing you. Do you have any idea how afraid I was when Athos first told me what you had come to believe?"

"I'm sorry," D'Artagnan began but Aramis shook his head refusing to let him apologize. 

"Do not even attempt to apologize," Aramis said sternly. He took a breath and forced himself to proceed more gently. "It is not your fault and I will not listen to you apologize for what I made you believe. I am the one who is sorry, love. I am sorry I made you doubt me, doubt _us_."

"It's alright," D'Artagnan said, turning his face up so he could look at Aramis. "You did not know."

"Well, I know now," Aramis told him. "I know now and before I am finished you will know beyond a shadow of a doubt exactly what you mean to me. My dear, sweet Gascon. I love you so much. You have done so very much for me, making me a better man than I thought possible."

"Aramis," D'Artagnan huffed, blushing at his lover's effusive praise, especially in front of Athos and Porthos. "I have done nothing."

"You have done everything," Aramis countered. "I would not even be here if not for you. I certainly would not be as I am now, whole and relatively sane."

"You are sane," D'Artagnan argued hotly. "You are as sane and whole as any off us. If we are...damaged...well, what of it? We have endured more than most ever imagined possible. That we would not come out of it the same way we went in, is only to be expected. It does not make me love you, any of you, any less. In truth, it makes me love you all the more."

They all fell silent, letting d'Artagnan's words sink in. He was right. They were different men than they had been when this all began. Their trials had changed them. Profoundly. Yet, they still had each other. In the end, that was all that truly mattered. 

When they started in on the food they had packed, neither Athos nor Porthos was surprised when Aramis refused to let D'Artagnan feed himself, insisting on feeding each bit of food to him by hand. D'Artagnan had blushed nearly crimson but he had not fought him, meekly taking each offered bite as Aramis continued to hold and pet him.

Once the food was gone, Aramis continued to hold d’Artagnan in his arms. He had to admit, even if he was not actively trying to romance the young man, he would be loath to give this up. It felt good to hold him like this. It felt right. 

“What is it?” Athos asked softly. He had seen a realization come over Aramis but was unsure what it was. From the almost imperceptible tightening of his hold on their youngest, he had an idea though. Still, keeping silent about their feelings had cost them dearly too many times to count. Athos would not see his brother make that mistake again.

“Nothing really,” Aramis said as he placed a kiss to the top of d’Artagnan’s head. He knew Athos would not settle for that and thought about how best to explain himself. “I was simply musing about how right this felt, here, now. Is it the same for you, brother? Do you feel… complete when he is in your arms?”

“Yes,” Athos said, his voice suddenly thick. “Though it is not just d’Artagnan that makes me feel that way.”

“He’s right, love,” Porthos said. “I may feel it the strongest when I’m holding you, but Athos and the Whelp, they feel just as right.”

“Oh,” Aramis said. He thought for a moment, remembering all of the times he had held these men. He quickly came to realize that, more often than not, he was the one being held rather than the one doing the holding. Perhaps that was why it had taken him so off-guard. “I did not mean it to seem…”

“Peace, love,” Athos said, stopping him from going on. “We do not doubt your feelings for us. Not in any way. As d’Artagnan said, there is no law that says you must feel the same things for all of us.”

“I think I would, if given the opportunity,” Aramis said. “I am somewhat embarrassed to realize that I am usually the one being held by one of you.”

“Bah, embarrassed?” Porthos grunted. “We don’t have a problem with it. Your boy may be enjoying this right now, but don’t think for one second that he would balk at turning the tables. We like having you in our arms. It’s what makes us feel right.”

“Alright,” Aramis smiled. “I shall not argue. I shall simply lay here and enjoy myself.”

“You do that,” Porthos said, grinning back.

“You look good like that, you know,” Athos said. He could see how relaxed both men were. No matter what else might come of it, this was doing d’Artagnan a world of good. And Aramis, too. Athos could see the old Aramis slowly returning as his confidence grew. Thinking about it, he had to wonder which of them truly needed this more for they were both coming alive as a withered flower after a rainstorm. 

D’Artagnan blushed anew at Athos’ words and tried to duck away. Aramis’ arms kept him from moving much, though he did avert his gaze. He was starting to get accustomed to Aramis’ newfound penchant for praising him, but from Athos it was still new and unexpected. Especially when he was lying in another man’s arms.

“You look good like that, too,” Athos chuckled as he watched the blush creep over d’Artagnan’s cheeks and down his throat. It made him look horribly young and Athos felt a faint twinge of guilt. For all that he looked young, however, d’Artagnan was no boy. He was not debauching him. There was no advantage being taken. D’Artagnan was a man grown and had proven that, no matter how young he might appear at times.

“Athos…” d’Artagnan groaned, his face heating even more. He always felt like such a boy at times like this, blushing and stammering. How anyone could find this attractive, he did not know.

“Athos is right,” Aramis whispered as he took d’Artagnan by the chin and turned his face back up toward him. He leaned forward, closing the scant few inches between them, and kissed him. He had to bite back a moan when d’Artagnan’s mouth opened under his immediately, the boy’s tongue coming out to swipe across his mouth. Parting his lips, he deepened the kiss, taking d’Artagnan in and making him moan loudly.

Wanting to be able to kiss him properly, Aramis maneuvered them until they were stretched out on the blanket and he was leaning over d’Artagnan. He kissed his mouth again, then pulled back and began to trail kisses all along his jaw. He kissed down his neck until he came to the dark purple mark he had left there. He hesitated for a heartbeat then brought his mouth down over the mark, covering it. He did not bite hard. He did not need to. Almost as soon as his teeth touched it, d’Artagnan was arching beneath him and crying out as he gripped onto Aramis’ arms.

Aramis felt his own body responding to the younger man’s display of want, his cock thickening in his breeches as he continued to gently suck at his neck. He could feel d’Artagnan panting beneath him but the grip on his arms never lessened, nor did they attempt to push him away. No, d’Artagnan was holding Aramis to him, begging wordlessly for his lover not to leave him. 

Athos sat up in surprise when d’Artagnan jerked and cried out. He had no doubt about what Aramis had done to elicit such a response, having seen the state of the younger man’s neck. What he was not quite sure of was whether d’Artagnan’s cry was one of want or pain, though the way he was holding tight to Aramis told him it must surely be the former.

“Easy, brother,” Porthos whispered softly to Athos. He did not want to have to stop Athos from interfering with the pair, knowing how both of them would likely take it. He could understand the man’s concern, though. He, himself, had started at the boy’s cry, unable not to respond to the pain he could hear in it. Still, the boy wasn’t pushing him away.

Aramis was aware of the two men on the periphery but he did his best to ignore them. He had seen Athos start to move as if to pull him off d’Artagnan but he had stopped and settled back to watch instead. Aramis was grateful. He did not want to stop what he was doing and he knew d’Artagnan did not want him to. That Athos was surprised at the strength of the boy’s reaction, told him a very great deal. It would seem Athos was not the only one who had not spoken of his need in this regard, though Aramis was almost positive the boy had been as unaware of it as Athos was of his own. 

D’Artagnan squeezed his eyes shut at the wild flood of sensations that threatened to swamp him. The feel of Aramis’ mouth on his neck again was driving him out of his mind. He knew the man was barely biting him this time but the area was already so bruised that it was enough to send waves of pain rolling through him. He knew he had to be worrying Athos but he could do nothing about it. He was almost helpless in his want. It overrode everything else, making him want to beg Aramis to bite harder, to make him scream, to make him cry and beg and _bleed_.

“Easy, my love,” Aramis crooned into his ear when he finally pulled back releasing his tortured neck. “Easy now. It’s alright. I’m here. I will not leave you.”

“Oh… Aramis…” d’Artagnan moaned still lost to the feelings roiling inside of him. “Please…”

“Please what, love?” Aramis asked, holding his breath as he waited for d’Artagnan to reply. He did not want to have to refuse the boy but he was not at all sure what he might ask for right now. Aramis did not have to look into his eyes to know the wildness he would likely find. 

“Bite me,” d’Artagnan groaned, the words all but forced from him. Once those first words were out, though, it was as if a dam had burst. “Oh, bite me. Hurt me. Make me… make me scream for you. I-I-I… I want you to break me.”

“Aramis…” Athos gasped, shocked by d’Artagnan’s words. He should not have been, he knew, but he still was. He had not expected him to ask for such a thing, not from Aramis. He was not at all sure he was prepared to witness it. He was not at all sure he could stand to.

“It is alright, Athos,” Aramis said without taking his eyes from d’Artagnan. “I will not hurt him.” He felt d’Artagnan stiffen at that and start to shake his head violently.

“No, please…” he begged, the want nearly drowning him.

“Shhh,” Aramis soothed. “I will not hurt you, my love. I cannot. But I do not believe I have to hurt you to give you what you want. What you need. I do not have to hurt you to break you, d’Artagnan. But you must be sure this is what you want.”

“I do…”

“And you must talk it over with Athos first,” Aramis said. “Just as you would not risk causing harm between Porthos and I, I will not risk doing so between you and Athos. He is already nearly beside himself right now in his sudden worry for you.”

“At-Athos,” d’Artagnan stammered, his head twisting to look for his lover. When he saw him sitting tensely beside Porthos, he understood Aramis’ hesitancy. Athos looked as if he was barely holding himself in check. Even as he frowned, unhappy that he had distressed his lover, part of him thrilled at the man’s protectiveness. 

“It’s alright,” Athos said, calming somewhat now that he knew Aramis was not going to do anything he might later regret. He did not wish to see his brother make a misstep here. And, in truth, he could not stand the thought of d’Artagnan being harmed in some way. His desire for pain, that they could discuss and come to an agreement on, but Athos would do whatever was necessary to keep him from true harm.

“Sorry,” d’Artagnan choked. “Didn’t mean to upset you.”

“You did not upset me,” Athos said. An incredulous look from Porthos made him wince and reconsider his words. “You did not upset me overly much. I was more worried for you than anything. I know how easy it is to get caught up in the moment. And… well… this is not a side of Aramis we have seen much of.”

“Thank you,” Aramis said. His words were meant for Athos but his eyes stayed locked on d’Artagnan. “I give you my word, I will not harm him. I will not harm you, either, brother. Which means we shall talk of this, all of us. We shall decide, together, what we can and cannot abide. Is that alright with you, love?”

“Yes,” d’Artagnan said at once. “But…” 

“But what?” Aramis asked. He could tell that he was unsure about what it was he wanted to say. He could not blame him but he needed him to say it anyway. 

“Will you still mark me?” d’Artagnan asked, his voice quiet and fearful, as if afraid of what the reaction to his request might be.

“Yes,” Aramis told him at once, his heart breaking at the uncertainty he saw in his lover’s eyes. “As much as you want. I will not take this from you, love. And they won’t either.”

“Oh, you mean they…”

“d’Artagnan?” Aramis pressed again when he trailed off uncertainly. “Please, love, you do not have to fear. Not here. Not us. Show us what is in your heart. I swear to God above, you will not suffer for it.”

“I know,” d’Artagnan replied, though it was rather obvious that he did not. “I… That is… Would they… too?”

Aramis frowned, unsure at first what d’Artagnan was trying to ask. Suddenly, it was as if a light went off and he understood. Smiling tenderly at the younger man, he nodded. “Oh yes. They would like nothing more than to mark you, I am sure of it. Especially Athos.”

“Don’t kid yourself, love,” Porthos said, his words coming out husky and lust-filled as he eyed the pair spread out before him. “I want to mark him just as bad as Athos does. Personally, I want to see which of you we can cover the most, you or the Whelp.”

D’Artagnan turned his head to stare at Porthos. The sincerity in his eyes sent a fresh bolt of lust straight through him. It was one of his most decadent fantasies, to feel those big hands holding him down and taking him. He had never imagined Porthos putting his mark on him before, but now that he had he could not get the picture of it from his mind. The only thing that would make it better was if Athos and Aramis were holding him down for the other man.

“Does that truly surprise you?” Aramis asked him, drawing his attention back to him. “That Porthos would desire such a thing of you as much as Athos and I? You are precious to us and, more importantly, you belong to us. All of us. That is what you want, is it not, my sweet d’Artagnan? You want to be ours, wholly and without reservation.”

“You are,” Athos ground out as he moved forward, crawling across the short expanse to kneel beside the pair. “You belong to us, body and soul.”

“You’ll never be free of us, Whelp,” Porthos added as he moved to join them. Aramis had moved back a bit, giving the other two men more room. “Try to run and we’ll hunt you down… put Aramis’ leash to good use.”

D’Artagnan felt his heart start to hammer in his chest. He looked around at the three men kneeling over him and felt something inside of him simply… let go. “Please,” he whispered as he closed his eyes and lifted his chin, willingly baring his throat to them.

Porthos made a sound very akin to a growl and started to move forward, intent on giving the boy what he was literally begging for. Athos’ hand on his arm, gripping him hard, stopped him and he cast a confused look at his brother.

“I’m sorry,” Athos said to Porthos before turning to Aramis. “Aramis, I must ask before this goes any further. Are you going to be alright with this?”

Aramis looked at Athos, unsure what the man was talking about. He looked at Porthos and saw that he was equally confused. “I am unsure what you are so concerned about,” Aramis began.

“Before,” Athos tried to explain. “When Porthos held him down and was… rough… with him, you did not react so well. I do not want to distress you.”

“Oh,” Aramis said as understanding dawned. “I was not exactly me at the time. I know that makes me sound insane. Suffice it to say, that was different. I am not lost in Boy and he is not my Master right now.”

“He is always your Master,” Athos said softly. “Whether he chooses to exercise that privilege is beside the point. So I ask again, will you be alright watching your Master being handled so roughly by us?”

Aramis started to reply then stopped. He thought for a minute about what Athos was saying, what he was asking him. He was right. Just because he was not calling d’Artagnan Master did not change the fact that he was and ever would be Aramis’ Master. But he had meant what he said. This was not the same. He was not lost in Boy, unable to tell if the other man was truly in distress. He had all of his faculties about him and he would continue to do so as long as d’Artagnan was like this. His Master had not left him on his own when he was the one compromised. Aramis would be equally vigilant for him now.

“You are right,” Aramis said. “He is always my Master. He will always be my Master. But I can do this. I know it is something he wants and I trust you both without question. Do not worry. I will not allow myself to become lost in Boy while we are like this. This time, it will be my turn to watch over him.”


	6. Chapter 6

Somehow they made it back to the manor without incident. D’Artagnan had not wanted to leave the glade but clouds had stated to roll in and Athos had not wanted them to get caught out in the rain. He promised again and again to make it up to the boy as he half carried him back to the house, Porthos walking on d’Artagnan’s other side in case Athos should need help with him. 

As they had walked back, Aramis had walked behind the trio, watching them. It made him smile inside to see Athos and Porthos both acting so caringly toward d’Artagnan. Not that the pair of them did not show their caring, for they did. Rather, d’Artagnan rarely allowed himself to be coddled in such a manner. The others seemed quite aware of the fact that their youngest was being exceptionally willing at the moment and took advantage of it, expressing all the things he did not normally give them the opportunity to. 

Athos had shared a few quick words with him back at the glade, telling him he thought it past time they at least attempted to give d'Artagnan his fantasy. Aramis had been somewhat apprehensive at first, remembering how rough they had been with the boy in the fantasy he had shared with them. He agreed with Athos, though. It was high time their youngest be the one indulged and he would do his best to ensure gave d'Artagnan everything he wanted this time.

“Our shared room?” Athos asked once they were all inside the house, thinking if they began there they would not need to go far afterwards.

“No,” d’Artagnan shook his head vehemently. “Sitting room. Please?” He had no idea why he wanted to be there, he only knew that he did. 

“Anything you want, love,” Porthos said as they guided him into the room. He felt a bolt of lust go through him as he recalled snatches of the boy's fantasy. 

“I’ll start a fire,” Aramis said as Athos and Porthos sat d’Artagnan down on the divan.

“No,” Porthos called out, halting Aramis half way to the fireplace. “You come keep our boy company. Me and Athos’ll see to everything.” 

“Porthos, I can…”

“Aramis,” Porthos said, letting and edge creep into his voice. He crossed the room to Aramis and took him by the arm then led him back over to the divan. His grip was not hard enough to bruise but it did let Aramis know that he was serious. “I don’t think the Whelp is the only one to have forgotten a few things. You two belong to us. Now be a good boy and sit here while we get everything ready.”

Aramis swallowed thickly and nodded at Porthos, unable to speak. The sudden forcefulness in his lover’s demeanor was doing wicked things to his equilibrium. He always responded to Porthos in such a manner, his complete trust in the man allowing him to simply let go. From the wide-eyed look on d’Artagnan’s face, he was finding himself doing the same and was rather thrown by it.

Satisfied that Aramis and d’Artagnan would stay put, Athos and Porthos bustled about building up a fire in the hearth and making sure the house was secured for the night. Athos doubted if Porthos planned to let the other two up once they got them where they wanted them. That was just fine with him. He and Porthos had whispered this fantasy to one another before, the fantasy of having the pair spread out before them. 

In their fantasy, d’Artagnan had always been acting as Aramis’ Master, adding an additional air of the forbidden to what they were doing. But Aramis himself had admitted that d’Artagnan was always his Master, regardless of whether he was actively acting as such or not. For Aramis to see him being used so, to see him being mastered for once, sent a decadent thrill through Athos. Too long he had sat back and allowed the others to take the lead, preferring his submission and the relative safety it afforded him. He still wanted that, still thrilled to the thought of submitting to his lovers, but it was time to set that aside for a while. It was time to allow them, allow _him_ , the same freedom he had been allowed. It was time to put his boy in his place.

As Porthos tended the fire, building it up so that it would last into the night, he could feel the atmosphere shifting. He did not even have to look at Athos to understand what was going on. He could practically feel the authority rolling off him in waves. He had thought, at first, that he would have to orchestrate the majority of this encounter. It would appear he was mistaken. Athos seemed more than ready to take their lovers in hand, finally giving the natural air of command he possessed free rein.

Porthos had to turn his head to hide his grin at the thought of what the unsuspecting pair on the divan were in for. Athos had been holding back for so long, it was bound to be explosive when he finally loosened his hold on his desire. It was no secret that he thrilled to the idea of having the two men between them to use however they wished. He knew part of it was his unspoken desire to put Aramis’ Master in his place, to show the boy that he was not necessarily the one in charge where Aramis was concerned. He had a feeling Athos was of a similar mind, eager to put both of them on their knees for once. He would have to be careful that they did not lose themselves and go too far. They had grown to rely on the boy to ask as a safeguard for such things but this time the lad would not be able to. This time it was the lad that would be in need of protection.

D’Artagnan found himself inching subtly closer to Aramis as they watched the other two men go through their preparations. He did not know why, but it was as if he could sense danger in the air. He knew that was ridiculous, but it did not stop him from tensing as if preparing for a fight.

“It is alright,” Aramis whispered as he leaned in closer to d’Artagnan. He gripped his hand, squeezing it hard. He could tell the younger man was growing nervous and he did not blame him. The predatory air their lovers were giving off was enough to set his own teeth on edge. He could well imagine how bad it must be for d’Artagnan who had never witnessed anything even close to this outside of the battlefield. 

“I’m being stupid again,” d’Artagnan whispered back, though he did not let go of Aramis’ hand and his eyes continued to track their lovers. 

“You are not,” Aramis told him. “You have never seen them like this before. At least not when they have not been about to cause grievous bodily harm to someone.”

“And you have?”

“Yes, I have been with Porthos when he was like this before so I have a better idea of what to expect,” Aramis chuckled. “Though I admit, I have never seen Athos quite like this. The only times that came close were times when he and Porthos were sharing me, or rather Boy. He was more aggressive then but not quite to this degree. You do not have to worry, though. They will not harm you.”

“I’m not worried about me,” d’Artagnan told him. “But I may not be able to keep an eye on things as I normally do and I don’t want…”

“D’Artagnan,” Aramis huffed. “Stop. You need not worry for me. I know how to handle my lovers, even like this. This time, dear boy, I shall be the one looking out for you. I know that you like the pain and they will keep that in mind as well. They will not truly harm you, though. They would not truly harm either of us. We are simply too precious to them to risk it. You can trust our brothers, love.”

“I do,” d’Artagnan said at once. “I do. But it is as you said. Even if I am not acting as your Master, it does not negate the fact that I am.”

“Precious boy,” Aramis murmured and pulled d’Artagnan into his arms fully. He pressed his face to his hair and held him, taking as much comfort as he was giving. “Let us give you this. For just a little while, let everything go and trust in us.”

“Yes, Aramis,” d’Artagnan said softly. He heard his lover draw in a quick breath and burrowed down deeper in his arms, not wanting to look the man in the eyes just then. He knew what he had said and just how Aramis would interpret it. It was up to him what he chose to do now.

Aramis froze for long seconds as he took in exactly what d’Artagnan was offering him. He felt him tense in his arms and try to hide himself as he struggled with the realization of what he had said. Finally, he ran his hands up and down his back soothingly and leaned in close to his ear. “Good lad,” he whispered, his voice so low as to barely be heard. The way d’Artagnan immediately relaxed against him let him know he was both heard and understood.

Once everything was secure, Athos joined Porthos in front of the fire. He had not missed the way d’Artagnan moved closer to Aramis and wanted to give the pair a few more minutes together. He knew the longer they waited the more anxious both men would become but, in truth, that was part of the appeal. Had not d’Artagnan done that very same thing to both him and Aramis, keeping them waiting in order to ramp up both their trepidation and their desire? He easily recalled how near to desperate Aramis had been by the time the boy had finally come for him. While he did not plan on making the pair wait quite that long, he thought some small amount of apprehension was not uncalled for.

“Your boy wants to hurt, you know,” Porthos said, pitching his voice so only Athos could hear.

“I am aware,” Athos replied. “If I had not been from our reunion, his display in the glade would have made sure of it.”

“And you’re okay with that?” Porthos asked, needing to be certain before they began.

“Do not harm him,” Athos said. “Do not…hit him. You may be as rough with him as you like, but bear in mind, he is not Aramis. He is not used to rough handling and he is not used to a lover of your… girth.”

“I don’t plan to fuck him, Athos,” Porthos snorted.

“Do you not?” Athos challenged. “I doubt he will deny you.”

“No, I know he won’t,” Porthos agreed. “But Aramis was supposed to have him first.”

“Why?” Athos continued to press. It wasn’t that he was in a hurry to see Porthos taking his young lover in such a manner. Rather, it was more that he did not see the need for the pair to continue to deny themselves, especially if it was something they both wanted. And, as Aramis’ seduction would likely still take some time to come to fruition, he did not see the point in the two men suffering.

“You know, that’s a very good question,” Porthos said. “You sure you’re okay with it? I won’t be easy on him, first time or not.”

“I am sure. He is rather looking forward to that, I do believe. The last time we spoke of it, he told me he knew you would not be gentle, that you would use him… rut him… while we stood by and watched.”

“Fuck,” Porthos growled. It was all too easy to imagine just that, to imagine holding the boy down and rutting him while he panted and moaned beneath him.

“Yes,” Athos continued. “A few moments later, he begged me to shove him onto his belly and fuck him.”

“This was when you came home, wasn’t it?” Porthos asked, remembering the way d’Artagnan had moved, slow and careful as if in some degree of discomfort.

“Indeed. My little bitch enjoyed being fucked until he screamed.”

Porthos felt like he'd been punched, all the air leaving him in a rush. To hear Athos say such a thing, and about D'Artagnan no less, was extremely affecting. He had known his brother was casting off the cloak of submission he had been wearing of late, but he had not expected him to do so with such relish. 

“Porthos?” Athos queried when Porthos merely stared at him in stunned silence.

“Keep this up, brother, and I'll be the one fucking your boy until he screams,” he finally managed as he fought to get himself back under control. He would need to be if this night was to go the way it was headed. It would not do to lose himself too soon. As Athos had said, the boy was unused to such things and would need some time to adjust. 

“If you are expecting me to object to that, you have badly misjudged the situation. He wants you. You want him. I, for one, would very much like to watch as you fuck him through the floor. Any objections?”

“None whatsoever,” Porthos said. He glanced over at the divan and took in the way the pair were all but huddled together, Aramis' arm wrapped around D'Artagnan protectively. “You plan on keeping Aramis busy while I'm doing that?”

“Perhaps,” Athos shrugged. “Perhaps we will both make use of D'Artagnan while he is forced to look on, helpless to do anything but watch.”

“And here I blamed Aramis for turning our boy into a fiend,” Porthos chuckled. “Ready?”

“More than,” Athos replied. As one, they turned toward the divan and the two men waiting there. As they approached, they saw both men tense up then Aramis took a deep breath and D'Artagnan forced himself to follow suit. 

“Nervous, boy?” Porthos all but leered as he approached d’Artagnan. He eyed the younger man up and down, doing nothing to hide the lust boiling inside of him. When he saw the boy grip Aramis’ hand all the harder, he laughed darkly.

“Perhaps now we should discuss things a bit first,” Aramis piped up, suddenly unsure about where this was going. D’Artagnan was already insecure and the way Porthos and Athos were acting only made it worse. 

“Oh it’s much too late for that, Aramis. The decision has already been made. Your input is not required,” Athos said as he sidled up next to him. He brought his hand down to the man’s shoulder and gripped hard. When he felt Aramis stiffen then sag under his hand, he knew he had made himself clear. Unless one of them started fighting them in earnest, there would be no stopping this. Not this time.

“Good boy,” Porthos said when Aramis subsided before turning his attention back to d’Artagnan. “You did a good job teaching him to obey. Think you can do it as well as he can?”

“No, Sir,” d’Artagnan replied. He licked his lips nervously then risked a glance up at Porthos. The desire he saw burning in his eyes was enough to have him blushing and looking away as his stomach did flips.

“But you want to try, don’t you?” Athos asked. He let his hand slip from Aramis’ shoulder to tangle in his hair. Like this, he would need do no more than tug to get his point across. 

“Ye-yes, Sir,” d’Artagnan replied haltingly. He heard Athos let out a quiet moan when he called him Sir for the first time. He didn’t even know why he did it, why he would address either of them in such a way, only that it felt right to him. Here and now, it felt right.

Athos had to pause and let himself calm down. Hearing that from d’Artagnan’s lips, from the lips of Aramis’ Master, had nearly undone him. A single glance at Porthos showed him to be similarly affected. He thought it might be even worse for Porthos actually, for he had always had more than a few concerns about d’Artagnan’s mastery of his lover. He had a feeling that Porthos was going to enjoy turning the tables as it were. And if he was being completely honest with himself, so was he.

Wanting to draw things out a bit, Athos tugged Aramis up from the divan by his hair. A quick nudge had Porthos doing the same with d’Artagnan. He gave Aramis a little shove, pushing him toward the fireplace, then sat down in his vacated seat. He grinned widely when Porthos quickly did the same, shoving d’Artagnan toward Aramis and sitting down beside him.

“I do believe it is time for you to be the entertainment for once, d’Artagnan,” Athos said as he relaxed back on the divan.

“What… what would you have me do?” d’Artagnan asked. He felt completely out of his element and had no idea what was expected of him. The way the other two men were acting was so unexpected that he struggling to keep up.

“Strip each other. Slowly,” Athos said taking pity on the boy’s obvious uncertainty. He did not want to truly distress him and knew Aramis would attempt to call a halt to things if he came too close. 

“Yeah, show us what we get to play with,” Porthos added, wanting to make it clear that it was not just Athos he would be answering to this time, but both of them.

“Yes, Sirs,” d’Artagnan said, blushing. His gaze shifted to Aramis and the quiet strength he saw eased him greatly as it soothed his rising trepidation. He was not alone. Aramis was with him. Even though part of him was mortified at Aramis having to watch his Master being subjugated, a bigger part remembered his plea to let go and let them give him this.

“Are you certain you can do this?” Aramis asked as he began unlacing d’Artagnan’s cuffs. He made no effort to pitch his voice low, not caring if the other two heard him. He could see how hard their youngest was struggling. If this was too much for him, he would stop it now regardless of how much it might anger the others.

“I… I think so,” d’Artagnan replied honestly. “Will you stay close to me?”

“As close as I can,” Aramis promised. “There is no shame if this is asking too much of you, though.”

“I know. But it is what they want. Possibly what they _need_. I will not deny them.”

“Very well,” Aramis said knowing that arguing would be futile. “But do not do harm to yourself. Do not allow any of us to do harm to you. Alright?”

“I will do my best,” he replied. It was the most he could offer. He did not want to make a promise to Aramis that he might not be able to honor. He would do his best, as he said, but he knew from watching Aramis just how easy it was to become overwhelmed. Unlike Aramis, however, he had no real experience in this to fall back on. He had only his experiences as Aramis’ Master and he knew that was not even close to the same thing.

“And I shall be keeping an eye on you,” Aramis told him. It would mean not letting go as he normally would during such a time but that was better than risking d’Artagnan being pushed into something he was not ready for. For all of their sakes, he would do his best to remain vigilant and, in the end, trust in their brothers.

His shirt unlaced, Aramis pulled it up and over d’Artagnan’s head, baring his chest. The marks he had left on the younger man stood out lividly even against his darker skin. He felt a surge of possessiveness run through him at the sight of them and had to force it back down. The others had made it clear, d’Artagnan was not for him this time. Any possessiveness on his part would only get in the way.

When Aramis saw a shiver run through d’Artagnan he nudged him back closer to the fire behind them. Not wanting to strip him naked while he was still clothed, he held out his arms to the other man so he could remove his shirt as well. 

Athos and Porthos watched the pair avidly as first d’Artagnan’s chest was laid bare then Aramis’. Athos had needed to grip the side of the divan to keep from going to the boy when he saw all of the marks Aramis had covered him in. Even Porthos had drawn in a breath, surprised at the blatant marks of ownership Aramis had bestowed upon the lad. 

As they continued to watch, they could tell that Aramis was trying to control this somewhat, to pace them, so that the boy wasn’t overwhelmed. That was all well and good. Expect that it wasn’t for Aramis to make this decision. Not this time. He had no more control over the situation than his Master and it was time he learned that.

“Stop,” Athos called out once both men had removed each other’s boots. They both froze at his words, turning to look at him as they waited for his orders. For his part, Athos took a moment to simply enjoy the sight of the pair of them, wearing nothing but their breeches, the fire flickering behind them, highlighting their skin in gold and red. 

“Brother?” Porthos asked, tilting his head as he watched Athos to see what the man was up to. From the devious look on his face, he could tell it would likely please him very much.

“Aramis, finish undressing d’Artagnan,” Athos commanded. “You will stay as you are.”

“You do not wish me to undress as well?” Aramis asked.

“Not yet,” Athos grinned. “It’s the boy we wish to see. We are all quite used to seeing you on display, after all.”

Aramis sucked in a breath and looked away. He felt his face heat at the insinuation in Athos’ words. He knew his brother was only teasing him, that he did not truly see him as a wanton whore, but the words still bit, even as they made his cock stiffen shamefully in his breeches.

“Aramis?” d’Artagnan called softly, his voice suddenly unsure. He had seen his reaction to Athos’ words and frowned slightly. He knew Aramis had not taken offense at them, but something about them seemed to hit home for the man.

“All is well,” he whispered resolutely as he let his hands come to rest at the fastening to d’Artagnan’s pants. He looked at him, waiting for his permission before beginning. At the younger man’s brief nod, he began undressing him once more.

In no time at all, d’Artagnan found himself standing naked. He felt his face heat at the knowledge that he was the only one without clothes. He knew it was psychological on Athos’ part, his way of disarming him and making him vulnerable. Even knowing what Athos was doing and why did not make it any easier to endure, though. He had to ball his hands into fists to keep from turning away as the other men simply looked at him, eying him up and down as if judging his worth.

“It is alright,” Aramis said softly as he saw how uneasy d’Artagnan was growing.

“Be silent, Aramis,” Athos said at once, his voice firm and clipped. If they wanted the Whelp coddled, they would coddle him. It was not Aramis’ place to do so and it was high time he figured that out.

Aramis stared at Athos, taking aback by the rebuke, but he snapped his mouth closed all the same. He could feel d’Artagnan’s nervousness increase but there was nothing he could do about it. Athos had made it quite clear that he did not want him comforting him. 

“You’re good at this, brother,” Porthos chuckled as he watched the way Athos took charge of the situation, keeping the boy on edge and firmly putting Aramis in his place. 

“Are you suggesting I take on this role more often?” Athos mused. He did not miss the sudden wariness in the eyes of the two men standing before them. Taking that into consideration, he might actually have to think about it. 

“Maybe,” Porthos replied. “I think your boy might like it more than he wants to admit. Look at him all but panting for it over there. It’s enough to make you think he hadn’t been fucked in months.”

“I assure you, Porthos, that is not the case,” Athos said. “He is just that… needy.”

“A needy little slut, is he?”

“Yes. Though, in truth, I think a good, hard fucking would do wonders for his disposition,” Athos remarked. “Aramis, bring him over here.”

Aramis hesitated a moment then took d’Artagnan by the arm. He led him over to the divan where their brothers waited and stopped just in front of Athos. He kept his hand on the younger man’s arm, offering what support he could. He could feel how tense he was and was surprised he wasn’t shaking.

Athos eyed the pair as they stood in front of him. He could see how uneasy they both were by the way they held themselves. Casting a quick glance at Porthos to make sure he had no objections, he suddenly shot to his feet, startling the pair and causing Aramis to take a step back. 

Before Aramis could recover, Athos fisted his hand in his hair and jerked his head back hard. “You hesitated,” he purred as he held his lover in a punishing grip. “Why?”

“He… he is nervous,” Aramis gasped. “I was… was worried for him.”

“It isn’t your place to worry for him,” Athos told him. “It isn’t your place to do anything other than what we tell you to do. Do you understand?”

“Yes. Yes, Sir,” Aramis said, his eyes stinging as Athos continued to hold his head pulled back. The desire to submit was all but singing through his veins. He had to actively fight it to keep from slipping. He was supposed to be keeping an eye on d’Artagnan. He could not do that if he lost himself to lust.

“Better,” Athos said. “Now take off my belt.” He did not miss d’Artagnan’s sudden gasp but he ignored it, his eyes locked on Aramis’ own. He felt the man’s hands reach for his waist then quickly remove his belt. Only then did Athos release the grip he had on his hair so he could take his belt from him. 

Not wanting his lovers to get the wrong idea and panic, Athos quickly spun Aramis around and secured his hands behind his back. Once he was bound, he shoved him to his knees then turned back to d’Artagnan. The boy was shaking now, his eyes huge and wide as he watched him. 

“I think it’s past time my little bitch learned his place,” Athos said as he fisted his hand in d’Artagnan’s hair much the same way he had Aramis’ moments ago. “You feel up to showing him, brother?”

“More than,” Porthos said as he reached down and massaged the growing bulge in his breeches. 

“He’s going to fuck you, little bitch,” Athos said as he jerked d’Artagnan against him and held him there. “He’s going to fuck your ass while I fuck your throat. And maybe, if you are an exceptionally pleasing whore, we will allow you to be with Aramis when you are done.”

“Y-y-y-yes, S-S-Sir,” d’Artagnan stammered, his heart pounding in his chest. Athos had never been so rough with him, so demanding. It frightened him a bit, but at the same time, it thrilled him. He had wanted this for so long, wanted to be used, to be taken by these men and shown his place amongst them. Now that the time had finally come, it was almost more than he could take.

“Don’t hurt him,” Aramis gasped out, unable to hold back. He did not really think Athos would harm the boy. Porthos, either. But he knew how easy it was to get lost inside of things like this and both of his brothers looked almost feral in their want right now.

“Speak again without permission and I shall gag you,” Athos warned without so much as looking in Aramis’ direction. 

“He means it,” Porthos cautioned when he saw his lover weighing the odds, trying to decide if Athos would actually gag him. “I think we might need to give Aramis something to do with his mouth. What do you think, Athos?”

“That’s a brilliant idea,” Athos smirked, understanding just what Porthos had in mind. “He’s used that wicked mouth of his to drive me mad. Let’s see how d’Artagnan likes it when it’s his turn.”

They laid d'Artagnan out the same way Athos had been the first time Porthos took him, kneeling with his head and upper body resting on the divan. With Aramis' hands tied behind him, Porthos had to help him get into position. While he did so, Athos spread d'Artagnan's legs wide, baring him as much as he could and giving Aramis room to work his magic. He ran a teasing finger along d'Artagnan's cleft, pleased when it made the boy flush and moan. 

“Boy sounds anxious,” Porthos said as he moved Aramis between d'Artagnan's spread legs then stepped back. “Best get your mouth to work on him. You're gonna want him as open as you can make him if he's going to take me.”

“Porthos...” Aramis began. A sharp glance from Athos stopped his words in his throat. The last thing he wanted was for Athos to gag him and this was probably the best way to get d'Artagnan relaxed and open. He was going to need to be if he was going to take Porthos. Especially as riled up as the man was. It was on the tip of his tongue to plead with them to take him instead, to let it be him they rutted, but he kept quiet. He doubted if Athos would grant such a request and, in truth, he knew that there was a part of d'Artagnan that wanted this. No matter how hard it ended up being on him. He let that comfort and reassure him as he bent to his task.

Leaning forward, Aramis rested his shoulder against d'Artagnan's hip, using the younger man's body to help hold him up. It would not be easy to maintain this position without the use of his hands but he rather thought that was the point. Nuzzling his face between d'Artagnan's cheeks, he placed a single kiss to the young man's hole. He felt him tense beneath him, but Aramis did not give him time to do more than that before he followed his lips with his tongue, licking a long stripe along his cleft and over his hole.

D'Artagnan tensed at the first brush of Aramis' lips against him there. He had a second to realize what was about to happen then that wicked tongue was swiping over his hole, causing him to cry out and buck his hips. He had felt this once before, with Athos. It had been almost too much to take from the very start. He knew it would not be any easier with Aramis attempting to drive him out of his mind as the others looked on.

Aramis did not waste time, wanting to get d'Artagnan as relaxed and open as possible before their lovers decided they had waited long enough. Considering how worked up the pair were, he was surprised they were waiting long enough to allow this. He supposed it was Athos' apparent desire to use humiliation as a way to put d'Artagnan in his place. The idea had merit for the boy was responding to the treatment just as Athos seemed to want him to. 

Aramis continued to lick over his hole, running his tongue up and down and circling all around it. This was the first time he had ever been able to do this with d'Artagnan and he reveled in the experience. He could feel the effect his efforts were having, causing d'Artagnan to moan almost constantly. After a relatively short time, he felt the boy's body start to relax beneath him and he began pushing his tongue directly against his hole in an effort to breech him. 

When d'Artagnan felt Aramis' tongue slowly pushing inside of him, he could not hold back a yell. He began to shake as his body was overloaded with sensations. The fact that Athos and Porthos were right there, watching everything that was happening, only made it worse. Before he could stop himself, he began pushing back trying to get more of Aramis' agile tongue inside of him as he lost control.

“Yeah, fuck yourself on his tongue,” Porthos said as he watched the pair. He could see just how out of his mind Aramis was driving the boy and it made his cock throb in want. He could only imagine what it would be like to sink inside that tight body for the first time. He had felt the lad on his fingers many times and knew just how tight he was. Even after Athos' rough fucking the other night, Porthos knew it would still be a stretch for the boy to take him. 

Athos watched the pair for a bit longer, enjoying the way d'Artagnan panted and shook from Aramis' ministrations. He could remember all too well what it had felt like to be at the mercy of that tongue. Just as he could remember all too well what it was like the first time Porthos had taken him. Deciding he could not wait any longer, he reached down and wound his hand in Aramis' hair again. Pulling back, he tugged him away from d'Artagnan's body.

“That's enough,” Athos said as he pulled Aramis away. He gave him a moment to get his balance, not wanting to actually drag him across the floor by his hair. Once Aramis was steady enough on his knees, Athos began forcing him back and away. When he was satisfied with both the distance and Aramis' view of what was going to happen, he stopped. “This should do. You may watch but you may not intercede. Am I clear?”

“Yes, Sir,” Aramis panted as he knelt there. He was far enough away that he would have to crawl to get to them, yet close enough to have an unimpeded view of what was about to happen. 

“Good boy,” Athos smirked. “If he is pleasing enough, you might even get a chance at him.”

“And if he is not?” Aramis asked causing Athos to stop and regard him.

“Excellent question,” Athos replied. “I am not sure. I think, perhaps, any deficiencies shall be laid at your feet.”

“Sir?”

“If he fails to please, if he defies us in any way, you shall be the one to pay for it,” Athos clarified. “I would think the threat of that alone would be enough to ensure he does his absolute best. Don't you?”

“He will not fail you,” Aramis said, wincing at just how accurate Athos' prediction was. D'Artagnan would do anything to ensure that he did not suffer, no matter how pleasurable his suffering might turn out to be. “You do not have to threaten me for his compliance in this.”

“I am well aware of that,” Athos snapped. “But it will add an air of desperation to things, for you as well as him. I know it will only increase the intensity of things for him. What of you, Aramis? Will you get off on watching us, knowing that if he fails in some way that you will pay the price for it?”

“As long as you do him no harm, I am yours to use in any manner you wish.” 

With that, Athos left Aramis where he was and rejoined Porthos and d'Artagnan. From the look on Porthos' face and the way d'Artagnan was shaking, he knew they had heard every word of his conversation with Aramis. He raised an eyebrow at Porthos, wanting to give the man the option of objecting before they began. 

Porthos knew what that look meant. Athos was asking him if he was okay with the plan he had just laid out. Were it anyone but Athos, he might be concerned. The man had threatened to punish Aramis for any mistakes the boy made, after all. But this was Athos and Athos would never take a hand to one of them. Any punishment he doled out would most certainly be of the pleasurable kind. Knowing the man was waiting for an answer, he grinned widely, letting him know he was not only on board with the plan but quite pleased with it.

Grinning back, Athos grabbed the oil and handed it to Porthos. “Care to do the honors?”

“Love to,” Porthos replied as he took the oil. He slicked two of his fingers and set the oil aside. After Aramis, he was fairly sure the boy could take two without causing any undue harm. He had to bite back a moan of his own when Athos reached over and spread the by wide for him, baring his damp hole. Unable to wait, he circled his two fingers around the boy's hole, spreading the oil, then pushed in.

“Ohhh...” D'Artagnan cried out when he felt two of Porthos' thick fingers breech him slowly, not stopping until they were buried to the hilt. 

“Easy,” Athos whispered. He had felt d'Artagnan tense up as Porthos sank his fingers inside of him. They needed the boy to relax if he was going to be able to take Porthos. His cock was a great deal more substantial than his fingers, after all.

“Ye-yes, Sir,” D'Artagnan panted as he tried to will his body to relax. Porthos' fingers felt huge inside of him. He knew he could take them, had taken them before, but never so abruptly. He told himself again and again that this was his brothers and his brothers would never hurt him, would never harm him. No matter how they were acting, they would not unduly hurt him. 

“Relax, boy. Breathe,” Porthos told him. He stilled his fingers inside of him, though he did not pull them back. He laid his free hand on the boy's hip right above where Athos' hand held him open.

“Breathe through it,” Athos told him as well. He was glad Porthos had paused, knowing that their boy needed a moment to collect himself. D'Artagnan had to relax or he would never be able to take Porthos, not without causing him harm and that was something they would not do.

Aramis watched what was going on a few short feet away and had to bite his tongue to keep silent. He could see how much d'Artagnan was struggling. He was glad they had paused, recognizing that d'Artagnan was having difficulty. Part of him wanted to beg them to leave their youngest alone, to take him instead. He knew that he could take it, having done so before. D'Artagnan, on the other hand, had never been so blatantly taken and controlled before. Even as the words were on the tip of his tongue, Aramis stopped himself. D’Artagnan wanted this. He had been yearning for this. Now that his lovers were finally giving it to him, he was not going to ruin it for the man.

“I...I...I am alright,” D'Artagnan finally managed to get out. He was still shaking but he could feel his body starting to relax and loosen around Porthos' fingers.

“Of course you are,” Athos said. “A needy little bitch like you can't resist being fucked. You need it. You need to feel someone holding you down and taking your ass. Don't you?”

D'Artagnan groaned and flushed darkly at Athos' words. He wanted to deny them, to say he wasn't a needy little bitch that craved being used like this, but he would be lying. He did want this. He did need it. Now he needed to trust his brothers enough to let them give it to him.

“I asked you a question, bitch,” Athos snapped, his hands squeezing the flesh beneath them hard enough to bruise.

“Yes, Sir,” D'Artagnan gasped. “I... I do want it. Your bitch...he...he needs it.”

Aramis felt arousal slam into him when D'Artagnan called himself Athos' bitch. He had never heard Athos speak so crudely to the boy and for him to answer in kind made Aramis' heart race. It was obvious that D'Artagnan had needed this for quite some time. He was glad they were finally giving it to him, that he was allowing them to give it to him. Now all he had to do was keep it together as he watched his Master being taken apart in front of him. A task that was proving harder by the minute.

“Gonna fuck you so hard,” Porthos growled as he began thrusting his fingers in and out in a prelude of what was to come. He had wanted the boy like this for ages but had held himself back. That ended today. After this, the boy would belong to him as surely as Athos and Aramis did. 

“Please,” D'Artagnan panted. Porthos' words of possession were like something from one of his dreams. The dream he had confessed to them, he still longed for it. He longed to be taken, to be broken down and put in his place. He knew his lovers did not agree with him in this, that they did not want him feeling as such, but they did not understand. He wanted this. He _craved_ it. 

“Does he need to be stretched more or can he take me now?” Porthos asked Athos, his patience quickly waning.

“No,” Aramis nearly shouted, unable to stop himself. “He can't. He's never...”

“Quiet!” Athos snapped. He eyed D'Artagnan as he lay panting against the divan. He was shaking again as he struggled to control himself. Suddenly, d'Artagnan's words about his dream came back to him. _He was brutal. He had prepared me but only marginally so_. 

“Brother?” Porthos called when Athos fell silent.

“He can take it,” he said at last. 

“No!” Aramis shouted. He began to struggle against the bonds holding him prisoner, intent on getting to D'Artagnan. The boy could not take Porthos like this, not the first time. He would be hurt, possibly even torn, and Aramis nearly panicked at the thought. 

With an angry snarl, Athos let go of D'Artagnan and strode to where Aramis sat struggling. He fisted his hand in Aramis' hair and jerked his head back hard. “Shut. Your. Mouth,” he spat. “He will take what I say he takes and there is nothing you can do about it.”

Aramis blanched as he stared up into Athos' angry eyes, his submission once more surging to the forefront. He did not mean to disobey. He did not mean to anger the man. This was D'Artagnan, though. This was his Master. Licking his lips nervously, he tried to explain. “I'm sorry,” he gasped. “I don't...don't mean to...to disobey you. I just... I cannot...”

“You cannot keep your mouth shut is what you cannot do. It is obvious your Master has not done as good a job of teaching you to obey as we had thought. Very well then,” Athos said, releasing the grip on his hair. “Porthos, your bandanna if you would.”

Understanding Athos' intent, Porthos grinned as he pulled off his bandanna with his free hand and tossed it to Athos. He kept his fingers moving inside their boy, stretching him, as he waited for Athos to finish taking care of Aramis and rejoin them. 

“If you cannot keep your mouth shut of your own accord then I shall relieve you of that burden,” Athos said. Before Aramis could protest, he tied a knot in Porthos' bandanna and shoved it roughly into his mouth then secured it tightly around his head. 

“Might want to make sure he stays put, too,” Porthos suggested. He could see how Aramis was struggling with this, unable to think of anything but getting to their boy. He could understand the sentiment, but that was not his place. Not this time. 

“Good idea,” Athos replied. He grabbed d'Artagnan's discarded belt and used it to secure Aramis' bound wrists to the leg of the chair he was leaning against. While the chair was not overly heavy, in this position it would be sufficient to keep Aramis tethered. With Aramis seen to, Athos started to rise then paused. 

Aramis stared up at Athos, the desperation in his eyes clear to see. He knew he was panicking and that he needed to calm down but he could not seem to. He had promised his Master he would look after him, that he would keep him safe, and he was failing to do so. 

Leaning back down, he put his lips next to Aramis ear. “We will not do harm to him,” Athos whispered, taking pity on Aramis. It was as much as he was willing to promise. D'Artagnan wanted some degree of pain, after all. 

Porthos waited until Athos rejoined them to speak. “You sure he can take me?” he whispered so only Athos could hear. He knew the boy wanted this. He wanted to be taken and he wanted it to hurt. But what one wanted wasn't always feasible. Just because the boy wanted it didn't mean he could handle it. As D'Artagnan himself had said before, the reality of something was sometimes far different than the fantasy.

“I think so,” Athos whispered back after a moment. “I know Aramis is worried. I will watch him. If he seems to be in genuine distress, I will stop things.”

“Alright, brother,” Porthos agreed. He knew Athos would never do anything to actually harm the boy. He simply did not have it within him to harm any of them, even if it was something they professed to want. The decision made, Porthos pulled his fingers out. He freed his erect cock from his breeches, moaning in relief as he did so. Taking up the oil, he slicked himself liberally. When he went to spread d'Artagnan's cheeks, he found Athos already doing so and had to grip himself at the sight. Holding his cock at the base, he placed his other hand on the boy's hip then pressed the head against his red and loosened hole. 

D'Artagnan couldn't stop a moan from escaping when he felt the head of Porthos' cock snug against him. Even after the man's fingers, his cock still felt huge and he knew taking him in would not be easy. The feel of Athos' hands spreading him for the other man only ramped up his desire, making him feel both vulnerable and somehow protected at the same time. For even like this, he knew Athos would look after him. 

“Go ahead,” Athos said as he held D'Artagnan open. While he could not see the boy's face like this, he could feel every tremor that passed through him. He would know if he was tensing up too much and hopefully be able to head it off. 

Porthos nodded then began to press in slowly. He could feel the boy's body fighting him and tightened his grip on his hip. Taking a deep breath, he slowly increased the pressure, pushing harder until his body had no choice but to give way and allow him in.

Porthos groaned loudly when d'Artagnan's body finally yielded to him, allowing the head of his cock to slip inside. He stilled then, wanting to give the lad time to adjust, at least a little bit. He could feel his body gripping onto him tightly as he fought to relax around the intrusion. The low keen that came from him giving testament to how hard he was struggling.

“Fuck,” Athos gasped when Porthos finally managed to breech the other man. His dark cock looked huge as it forced its way inside of their youngest. He could feel D'Artagnan trembling beneath his hands as his body tried to fight. Still holding him open, he began to gently squeeze the flesh in his hands, hoping to soothe him.

“He's so fucking tight,” Porthos panted. “Feels like he's strangling my cock.”

“Oh,” D'Artagnan moaned as he lay across the divan and shook. He had never had something of this size inside of him before. He had imagined many times what being taken by Porthos would be like but none of his fantasies had come close to this, to the intensity of it. 

“Gonna fuck you now, boy,” Porthos said, warning D'Artagnan that he was about to start moving. Slowly, he began pressing forward, inching more of his cock inside of him. He stilled again when he felt D'Artagnan tensing up too much. He had managed to get another couple of inches inside of him. He glanced at Athos, waiting for him to let him know that it was okay to proceed.

Athos could feel D'Artagnan shaking hard beneath his hands. No longer needing to hold him spread open, he let go and moved back by his head. He stroked along his face, hoping to calm and distract him. When he felt his shaking start to ease, he nodded to Porthos.

Aramis felt like he was going to explode. He could hear sounds coming from the divan as Porthos breeched D'Artagnan. While the boy had not cried out, he could tell from the increase in his breathing that he was struggling to take him in. From this angle, it was difficult to tell how much of Porthos he still had to take in but Aramis knew from experience that it was a good bit. As he watched his Master being taken, he realized how badly he had failed him and felt his own eyes sting. Gagged like this, he was entirely unable to call a halt to things. D’Artagnan was completely at the mercy of the others and it was all his fault.

For his part, D'Artagnan felt like he was being split in two. Porthos' cock felt huge. Even as his body tried to fight him, tried to keep him out, he was being steadily taken. He recalled Aramis and Athos both saying that being taken by Porthos had made them feel plundered. He understood the sentiment. He felt completely taken, his body and his will subject to the whims of another. It did not matter how much his body fought, how hard he struggled. Porthos meant to have him and he would. 

“He's half way inside you, boy,” Athos said, his voice tinged with awe. He was beginning to wonder if the boy really could take all of Porthos or if, perhaps, they were pushing things too far. His hole was stretched wide around Porthos' thick cock as the man slowly fed more and more of it into him. As he stroked over d'Artagnan's cheek, he was surprised to feel wetness and looked down to see tears glittering in his eyes.

“It's okay,” D'Artagnan husked when Athos' hand on his face suddenly stilled. He knew the man had felt the tears he had accidentally let fall. It wasn't the pain, not really. It was more the overwhelming feeling of being taken, of having no will of his own, of finally being theirs body and soul.

“Athos?” Porthos called having sensed something was amiss and not trusting d'Artagnan's take on things. For the first time, he found himself wishing Athos had not bound Aramis so far away. He was the best judge on what was going on with the lad at any given time.

“Are you certain?” Athos asked D'Artagnan, ignoring Porthos for the moment. He knew what it was like to be plundered by this man. He could understand the boy's reaction. Still, he needed to make sure. None of this was worth harming him over.

“I am,” D'Artagnan managed. “Please... Use me as you would.”

“Go ahead,” Athos told Porthos, satisfied with his answer. 

With a nod, Porthos began pressing forward again. He did not stop this time until he was all the way inside of him, his pelvis flush against D'Artagnan's ass. He held himself still again then, wanting to enjoy the feeling of being buried to the hilt inside the younger man. He knew he needed to adjust as well, and wanted to give him time to do so. When he started fucking him, he was unlikely to take it slow, simply unable to hold back. D'Artagnan needed to be ready for it.

D'Artagnan bit back a moan when Porthos bottomed out inside of him. He could feel his body rippling along the man's length as he tried to adjust. He bit his lip hard as Athos continued to stroke his face, trying to be as quiet as possible. Even though he could not see Aramis, he knew he was there. He did not want to distress him any more than he already was by all of this.

Taking a deep breath, Porthos pulled back half way then thrust forward again. He tried to be easy about it, but it was almost impossible with that tight heat gripping all along his shaft. Sooner than he intended, he pulled back and thrust forward again unable to help himself.

D'Artagnan gasped loudly when Porthos thrust inside of him. It was ten times worse than being breached by him. The force of it was so much more than he ever imagined, his body having no choice but to yield to the thick, hard flesh plundering it. When Porthos pulled back again, he tried to brace himself for it but it was impossible and he cried out loudly as his body was impaled anew.

“Oh fuck,” Athos said softly as he watched Porthos taking D'Artagnan. He could tell the boy's body was still fighting him but Porthos had waited as long as he could. He felt his own cock throb in his breeches as he watched Porthos pull back and snap his hips forward again pulling a pain-filled cry from D'Artagnan.

“Fuck his mouth,” Porthos said, remembering what Athos had told the boy. “I won't last long. Wanna see you fucking the bitch's mouth while I take his ass.”

Athos stared at Porthos for a second then pulled back and began tearing at his breeches. He needed to be inside of D'Artagnan, needed to feel that sinful mouth wrapped around his cock while Porthos took him. He quickly freed his erection and sat back on the divan. Wrapping his hand in d'Artagnan's hair, he lifted the boy's head. As soon as he pressed the head of his cock to d'Artagnan's lips, the boy opened his mouth and Athos groaned as he pressed his cock up and in.

D'Artagnan moaned when Athos began feeding his cock into his mouth. The feel of both of them taking him, of both of them using his body for their pleasure, was almost more than he could take. His could feel his body finally surrendering, no longer fighting Porthos as he took him and he moaned around Athos' cock. He was rewarded with a hard thrust from the man that shoved his cock all the way down his throat. Even as he struggled not to choke, he felt Athos pull back and thrust forward again then all he could do was hold on as both men began fucking him in earnest, taking his body and using it for their pleasure.

Porthos knew he couldn't last much longer. D'Artagnan's body was too tight and hot around his cock. Add to that the way Athos was fucking the boy's mouth and he could already feel his bollocks drawing up tight. “Not gonna last,” Porthos warned, wanting Athos to know he was close.

“Spend, brother,” Athos panted. “I shall not be far behind.”

“What...what about Aramis?” Porthos asked, trying to distract himself so he could hold on a little longer.

“I think our little bitch has earned himself a treat, don't you?” Athos replied breathlessly. “He can suck him while Aramis licks your spend from his sore hole.”

Porthos could easily picture the scene Athos had suggested and it was enough to push him over the edge. He slammed forward hard and fast then began to spend, his seed filling the boy's body as he shook and moaned beneath him.

Athos was not far behind. The feel of D'Artagnan moaning on his cock coupled with the knowledge that Porthos had found his release inside of him tore through Athos. Holding his head tight, he thrust forward all the way, burying his cock in his mouth and began to spend as well.

Spent and panting, both men slowly pulled back, easing themselves from d'Artagnan's body. Even after they had pulled out the younger man still shook. Reaching beneath him, Porthos wrapped his hand around d'Artagnan's neglected erection and stroked once earning him a high-pitched moan from the man and a thrust of his hips.

“Boy's hard as steel,” Porthos chuckled as he stroked him once more then released him.

“Then we best let Aramis free,” Athos chuckled. “I think of the feel of his mouth on him again should be more than enough.” That said, Athos tucked himself away then moved to Aramis' side. He was surprised to find him only half-hard in his breeches but then again he had been somewhat removed from them. Still, he doubted if D'Artagnan would have any trouble arousing him.

Aramis held himself still as Athos began untying him. The man started with his wrists, untying him from the chair and then freeing his hands. When Athos pulled the gag from him, he had to swallow a few times against the dryness in his mouth. When his eyes fell on D'Artagnan, he breathed an audible sigh of relief even as he flushed in embarrassment at his behavior. It wasn't that he was truly worried, but being unable to know that the boy was alright had been harder on him than he would have thought.

“Stretch out on your back,” Athos said once he had given him a moment to collect himself. He saw the puzzlement in Aramis' eyes and went on to explain. “He is going to kneel over you and suck your cock while you lick Porthos' spend from his hole.”

Aramis gasped at Athos' words, blushing darkly. He had told D'Artagnan before how degrading he found the idea of licking another man's spend from him. He had been acting as his Master at the time, but as he had pointed out to Athos, D'Artagnan was always his Master regardless of how he was acting at any given time. And while he did find the idea debasing, he could not deny that he found it exciting as well. Trying not to dwell on exactly why that was, he simply let the desire wash over him, pushing away his shame as it aroused him and caused his cock to harden.

“You see that, Whelp?” Porthos asked from the divan where he and D'Artagnan waited and watched. “Aramis likes the idea of licking my seed from your sore little hole. I think you like it, too.”

“Yes, Sir,” D'Artagnan rasped, blushing hotly as he did. It was the truth. He did like the idea of Aramis licking Porthos' spend from him. Aramis’ participation was the only thing their encounter lacked so far and he was anxious to remedy that.

“Crawl over here then,” Athos ordered as he laid Aramis down and undid his breeches, pulling them down and leaving Aramis bare to their gaze. As soon as D'Artagnan reached them, Athos helped maneuver him into place so that he was on his hands and knees above Aramis. 

“May I use my hands?” Aramis asked softly, hoping he was not being out of line by speaking.

“You may,” Athos said as magnanimously as he could. “Spread him wide. We want to see you licking him clean.”

“Yes, Sir,” Aramis said. Reaching up, he carefully spread d'Artagnan's cheeks, wincing slightly at how red and enflamed he was. Knowing his tongue would likely feel soothing if he was gentle enough, he pulled D'Artagnan down toward his mouth and let his tongue gently swipe across him.

The feel of Aramis' tongue there again, especially with how sensitive he was now, made D'Artagnan cry out loudly. He felt Aramis tighten his grip on his backside and hold him in place then carefully lick over him again. He all but sobbed this time, the tender feel of his tongue such a relief to his aching hole.

“Suck him,” Athos told D'Artagnan, reminding him of his task. He knew D'Artagnan would not be able to do much of anything after he spent and wanted him to make Aramis spend first.

Brought back to the present, D'Artagnan took Aramis' cock in hand and held it up. He lowered himself down on his elbows and took his cock into his mouth. He felt Aramis buck up helplessly, thrusting his cock in deep and simply opened his mouth wider. 

It did not take long for both men to be tottering on the brink. After everything D'Artagnan had been through his body was too overwrought to withstand much more. The feel of Aramis' tongue against his hole felt like heaven. Add to that the knowledge that Aramis was licking up Porthos' spend and D'Artagnan found himself fighting to hold on, determined to make Aramis spend before did.

Luckily, Aramis was in almost as bad of shape himself. Even his earlier worry was not enough to quell his desire. He could not stop himself from thrusting up, fucking the boy's mouth as he sucked and lapped at his hole. He could feel the younger man's hardness brushing against his chest and knew he was fighting to keep from spending. 

Desperate to make Aramis spend, D'Artagnan forced his head down all the way, burying his nose in his groin and taking his lover's cock all the way into his throat. It had the desired effect as Aramis shouted against him, his tongue stabbing into him as he thrust upward, trying to get impossibly deeper as he began to spend. 

Sucking and laving the cock in his mouth, D'Artagnan gave himself over to the feel of Aramis' tongue pressing inside him once more. A few moments later and D'Artagnan cried out around the cock in his mouth as he began to spend, his seed pumping out of him to stripe Aramis' chest and belly.

Athos and Porthos watched the pair, giving them time to come back to themselves. Knowing that D'Artagnan was in no shape to move on his own, they went to them. As carefully as he could, Porthos pulled D'Artagnan from atop Aramis. He gathered him into his arms and carefully stood.

“Can you take him to our shared room?” Athos asked as he helped Aramis sit up. “We'll be along in just a minute.”

“I've got him,” Porthos replied. “You just see to Aramis and join us when you're ready.”

Porthos carried D'Artagnan out of the sitting room, Athos watching them go. He thought the man might want a little time alone with Aramis to ensure he was alright. He had not missed how harsh Athos had been with Aramis and thought the man might be worrying about that now. He did not need to. Porthos knew Aramis was not upset with Athos. If he had truly thought the boy in danger or being harmed, no threat on any of their parts would have been enough to silence him. That he held his tongue showed his acceptance of what was happening. He winced when he recalled that Athos had gagged him, rendering him unable to actually say anything. Still, if he had truly felt they needed to stop, Aramis would have found a way to stop them. He could understand Athos possibly needing a bit of reassurance, though.

“Sir?” Aramis asked nervously once Porthos carried d'Artagnan from the room. He had not thought he had done anything to displease Athos again but it was hard to tell. Athos had never been like this before. Even when he was making use of Boy he had never been so...demanding. It was a side of him that Aramis had not realized was there and was woefully unprepared for.

“Are you alright?” Athos asked carefully. He could see how discomfited Aramis appeared to be. The fact that he still referred to him as Sir now that the encounter was over showed as much. He had to admit he was surprised himself at how quickly he had donned that mask. It only made sense that Aramis continued to struggle a bit.

“I'm fine, Sir,” Aramis replied, relieved that Athos did not seem angry with him but wary regardless. He balled his hands into fists and forced himself to be patient. As much as he wanted to follow Porthos and make sure that d'Artagnan was seen to, Athos obviously wanted him to wait.

“You need not call me Sir now,” Athos said, his brow furrowing in growing concern. He could tell that Aramis was not quite back to himself. The way he called him Sir and seemed almost hesitant to get close were proof. Taking a short step closer to put in him within arm's reach of the man, he gently stroked his fingers down Aramis' face. He did not touch the scars this time, unsure if such a touch would be welcome yet. 

Aramis closed his eyes at the feel of Athos' gentle fingers caressing his face. The gentleness and caring in his touch was enough to help him start fighting his way back to himself. 

“If I was overly harsh with you...”

“No, Sir,” Aramis said at once. “Athos. Sorry. No, you were...you were as harsh as you wished to be, as was your right to be.”

“I see,” Athos said, suddenly quite worried. “And if I were to pull you close now, would you shrink from me? Have I made you fearful of me now, my love?”

Aramis regarded the man as he took in his words. He could see the worry clouding his face and it pained him. Taking a breath, he unfurled his fists and stepped closer. “I am not afraid of you,” he said, barely stopping himself from calling him Sir again. “Forgive me. I am still somewhat thrown by how things went.”

“It is not you that needs ask forgiveness.”

“Nor is it you,” Aramis insisted. “I had not expected you to be so harsh. Not with either of us. It has left me somewhat flustered. But you did not frighten me, Athos. No damage had been done between us. Of that you need not worry.”

Athos huffed out a breath, his body sagging in relief. The thought that he had managed to harm what lay between him and Aramis had nearly sent him to his knees. If that was what donning this mask was going to do then he would never do so again. The risk was simply not worth it. He would rather leave such things to d'Artagnan and Porthos than take such a chance.

“Athos?” Aramis called worriedly when he saw the man sag. “You were truly worried for this?”

“How could I not be?” Athos replied, swallowing back the sickening bile that had filled his throat in his fear. “As you said, I had never treated you in such a manner before. And when you kept your distance and still called me Sir, I feared...”

“Oh love, no,” Aramis said, going to him and wrapping him in his arms. “I love you, my Athos. Nothing shall ever change that. I know I should not have grown as upset as I did. I know you would never do anything to harm d'Artagnan in any way. It would seem I was less prepared for the fulfilling of his fantasy than I thought.”

“In all fairness, we did not exactly give you much warning. Porthos and I should have discussed it with you more rather than simply rushing in blindly,” Athos said. He stayed where he was for long minutes, just letting Aramis hold him as the last of his fears dissipated. Looking back, he almost cringed at the memory of running roughshod over Aramis' concerns when he had voiced them. That they went so far as to actually intimidate the man into capitulation shamed him. He owed all of his lovers an apology for his behavior. Even Porthos, for the man would never have kept going as he did if he himself had not urged him to.

“Stop that,” Aramis said. He could almost hear Athos berating himself silently. “You gave him his fantasy. I will not see you regretting that.”

“Yes, but it did not have to be at your expense,” Athos said. “In the glade, when things grew heated, you stopped and refused to go on until you could make certain you would do no harm. I did not. I can be a very selfish man at times and I am sorry for that.”

“You did no wrong, love. I know you will not believe that right now. You likely cannot without first checking on d'Artagnan again to ensure that all is well. But I can tell you now, you did no wrong other than to, perhaps, be hasty and we have all of us been guilty of that before.”

Athos drew back from him and studied his face. He could see the sincerity in his eyes and it eased him greatly. Aramis was right. They had all been guilty of acting without thought before and most likely would be again. That his incaution could have hurt one of his brothers was the part he was having difficulty moving past. He would manage, though. For d'Artagnan's sake if nothing else because if the lad thought this encounter had somehow injured one of them he would never allow it to happen again. D'Artagnan deserved to have his wishes indulged as much as any of them. Athos would not see this taken from him.

“Thank you,” Athos said at last, placing a gentle kiss to Aramis' closed lips. “Your wisdom in such matters far outshines my own. I am glad we could give him this and I am weak with relief that I did not hurt you or what lies between us in the process. I will try not to be quite so hasty in the future so that you might be better prepared for what is to come.”

“I trust you, Athos. Above all else, I trust you. Completely and without reservation. Now, let us join the others before they come looking for us. If the Whelp realizes we are not there, he will likely grow concerned.”

When they finally made it to the bedroom, they found Porthos lying on his back with d'Artagnan curled against his side. His head rested on Porthos' chest and his eyes were closed. Both men stopped just inside the doorway as the sight of the pair resting together. It was probably the most at peace they had ever seen their youngest and it quickly did away with any lingering doubts either man had.

“I am not asleep,” d'Artagnan said, though he did not bother to open his eyes. He knew his brothers. If they thought him already asleep they would likely insist on sleeping elsewhere for fear of waking him. How they thought he would prefer sleep to their presence was beyond him.

“You were doing a fine imitation, love,” Aramis said as he gave Athos a nudge and moved into the room fully.

“Knew you wouldn't stay if I was,” he replied as he reluctantly moved off Porthos and toward the far wall.

“Stay in the middle,” Athos directed as he began quickly shedding the remains of his clothes. No matter what he might say, he knew Aramis needed to be close to him tonight and wanted the pair safely tucked between him and Porthos.

After stripping down, Athos helped Aramis get into bed then quickly followed taking up his usual place by the far wall. He stayed back at first, giving Aramis time to get situated. The man had no sooner got into the bed before d'Artagnan had turned to him, curling into him as Aramis wrapped his arms around him. Once the pair was settled, he moved up behind Aramis, spooning him from behind. This close, he had no trouble making out the quiet words the man whispered to their youngest.

"Everything is alright," Aramis soothed as he held d'Artagnan. "I'm here. We are all of us here and well. You can rest easy now, love. You are with us and we will never let you go."

D'Artagnan did not reply, merely snuggling in closer to Aramis. His body was still singing from his lovers' attentions and his mind felt adrift. But Aramis was here, in his arms, and he knew Athos and Porthos were close by as well. That was enough for him and he let his thoughts carry him along as they would for now.

As Athos watched the pair, he could not help but notice the protective way in which Aramis held d'Artagnan. That was something else they would have to take into consideration if they did this again. Athos had no doubt that part of why their encounter proved so difficult for Aramis was his inability to protect d'Artagnan. It did not matter that the boy had been in no danger. It did not matter that this was something he actively sought from them. All that mattered was that d'Artagnan had been in distress and Aramis had been held back from helping him.

"Athos? You okay?" Porthos asked softly. He could see the emotions flitting through his brother's eyes as he watched the pair between them. He knew that Athos had spoken to Aramis but he had to wonder now if there was something left unresolved between them. He knew Aramis was not angry or upset with any of them. But Aramis had a very bad habit of shifting blame onto himself whether it was merited or not.

"All is well, brother," Athos told him, taking his eyes from the pair and meeting Porthos'. He could see the worry there and reached across the pair to grasp his arm. "I am fine. We are fine. There is no need for concern."

"Alright," Porthos said, letting it go for now. He would keep a close eye on the pair and if something still seemed amiss he would step in. For now, however, he simply wanted to rest with his lovers safely beside him.

&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M

When Athos blinked awake he was surprised to find the shadows had moved across the wall significantly, signaling that morning would soon be coming round. In truth, he was surprised that he had fallen asleep at all. Granted, the encounter they all shared had been intense, he still had not thought it quite so draining.

A few short minutes later, he heard Porthos begin to stir as well and realized that he was not the only one to have succumbed to slumber. One quick glance at the pair between them, and Athos realized that they had all fallen asleep. Raising up, he signaled to Porthos to be as quiet as he could as he began carefully disentangling himself from their sleeping lovers. 

Porthos understood what Athos wanted right away and began to extricate himself as well. In no time, they were both standing naked beside the bed, pleased that they had managed to escape it without disturbing the duo.

"Now what?" Porthos asked as he picked up both their smalls, handing Athos his pair while he dressed in his own.

"I thought we might prepare something to eat while they continue to rest," Athos replied softly so as not to wake the pair.

"Another impromptu picnic?" Porthos grinned, liking the idea. He always liked pampering Aramis, especially after something so intense. He wasn't surprised to find that extended to the Whelp, too. 

"Something like that," Athos replied. He knew, after yesterday, d'Artagnan would be in no shape to do much of anything, including getting out of bed. Porthos would probably end up carrying him into the sitting room at some point so he would still be close to the rest of them as they went about their day. Not that he thought Aramis was going to let go of their youngest any time soon. Besides that, he wanted to get some food into all of them before they sat down to talk things out and thought this was the best way to go about it.

"Brother?" Porthos called when Athos seemed to lose himself in thought.

"Sorry," Athos said, ducking his head sheepishly. "I was just thinking. It would probably be best if d'Artagnan did not try to get out of bed today and that we need to get some food into all of us before we talk things over."

"Yeah," Porthos agreed. He was not exactly looking forward to the talk Athos had in mind. It wasn't that he thought he had hurt the lad, but he had been exceedingly rough on him. Add to that the fact that Aramis had not taken things overly well at times and it all left him somewhat apprehensive.

"All is well, brother," Athos assured him as he clasped his arm. "You did not harm him. You did not push him too far. You need not worry for our censure."

"I know," Porthos replied. "I'm just worried about Aramis, I guess. He got a little worked up there near the end."

"He did, yes," Athos agreed. "That is one of the things I want to talk about. He and I have spoken already and I believe I know the gist of what went wrong but I would like to make sure. D'Artagnan's fantasy need not distress him so and I will do everything I can to ensure it does not."

"So what happened with that?" Porthos asked. He was curious as to what it was that upset Aramis so much. He had thought he was onboard with what was going to happen but he had come close to losing it a couple of times and Porthos wanted to know why.

"Aramis was not as prepared for things as he had thought," Athos said as they made their way to the kitchen. "He says no harm was done between us but I still worry. I was harsh with him, overly so. He was prepared to see that from you, I think, but not so much from me."

"I promise you, brother, you have not harmed what is between the two of you," Porthos told him seriously. "You could not if you tried. Aramis is devoted to you. As is the Whelp. As am I. When we make mistakes, and we will, we shall persevere. Our brothers would allow us to do nothing else."

"Do you think I was overly harsh with them?" Athos asked as they went about putting together a meal for the four of them. It would not come close to what d'Artagnan could prepare but it would see their bellies full.

"No," Porthos shook his head. "But I can see where the surprise of it might have thrown them some. As you said, Aramis was prepared for it from me. You, on the other hand..."

"Thank you," Athos said, Porthos' assurances more of a relief than he would have expected them to be. He knew this man would not lie to him, even if what he had to say was not something he wanted to hear. For Porthos to say he had not acted wrongly eased him greatly.

&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M

D'Artagnan felt like he was floating on a cloud. His body ached all over but it was a pleasant ache. It reminded him that he had been loved and well, that he had been able to please his brothers. As he shifted, the cloud he was lying on turned firmer until he recognized it as Aramis' chest. Smiling in his sleep, he snuggled against the man, glutting himself on both the feel and scent of him.

"Shh," Aramis whispered as he gently rubbed up and down d'Artagnan's back. "Go back to sleep, beloved. I am here."

"Could stay like this forever," d'Artagnan mumbled as he tightened the arm he had wrapped around Aramis' middle. 

"I would gladly let you," Aramis chuckled. 

"Where are the others?" D'Artagnan asked as he blinked his eyes open. He could tell that he and Aramis were alone in the bed just from the feel of it. 

"I'm not sure," Aramis replied. "I doubt they have gone far, though. How are you feeling this morning?"

"Tired. Sore," D'Artagnan answered honestly. "Happy."

"Happy is good," Aramis smiled. "Was it what you wanted, love?"

"Oh yes," D'Artagnan said, blushing slightly at how enthusiastically he had answered. "I had never imagined anything so... Is that what it's like for you, when we take you down inside of yourself? Is it always so...so...peaceful afterwards?"

Aramis sucked in a breath at d'Artagnan's words and hugged him tightly. "Yes," he managed. "It is as if everything else simply goes away and all that remains is the pleasure I can bring the one I am serving."

"It felt... I don't have the words," D'Artagnan said, frustrated with his inability to express himself.

"Easy, love. Take your time."

"It was amazing. It hurt, but that only made it better. That I could endure it, that I could take all my lovers wanted to give me and still please them..." D'Artagnan paused, trying to get his jumbled thoughts in some semblance of order. "It was as if I finally knew my place, was finally being shown exactly what my place was. I knew...knew how I _fit_."

"While I will never agree with you about your place, I do understand what you mean," Aramis said. "If we could bring you pleasure in this, if we could bring you joy, then I am glad. We love you, D'Artagnan, and seeing you happy and at peace does more for us than you could know."

Porthos and Athos stood completely still just outside the bedroom door. They had heard D'Artagnan talking when they returned and had not wanted to interrupt. Now, they were glad for it eased something inside of both men to know that D'Artagnan had enjoyed their encounter as much as they had. To know they had brought their youngest a measure of peace, even for a short time, was more than they ever thought themselves capable of.

"You can come in, you know," Aramis called out when the pair remained in the hallway.

"Sorry," Athos said contritely as he and Porthos entered. "We didn't mean to eavesdrop."

"Just didn't want to interrupt you," Porthos added.

"That is alright," Aramis told them. "You meant no harm and none was done. Now what did you bring us to eat?"

With a laugh, the pair clamored onto the bed, careful not to spill the tray of food they had put together. Aramis and D'Artagnan slid back, giving them room, though Aramis refused to relinquish his hold on D'Artagnan. It was quite reminiscent of their picnic in the glade and Aramis could not resist the urge to feed his lover once more.

"You do know I am perfectly capable of feeding myself," D'Artagnan groused good-naturedly. He didn't really mind Aramis coddling him like this, even if it did embarrass him, especially in front of Athos and Porthos. However, it was clear that it pleased Aramis to do so and that was enough for him.

Once the food was finished and their detritus cleared away, Porthos figured it was time to talk about a few things. "Athos, I have to say, you surprised me a bit. Where did that come from, brother?"

"Yeah," D'Artagnan agreed. "I never expected you to... That is... I..."

"Peace, love," Athos said as he reached out and took d'Artagnan's hand. "I'm not altogether sure where that came from to tell the truth. But more important than where it came from is whether or not you liked it."

"I did," D'Artagnan said at once, not wanting Athos to think for a second that he hadn't.

"Good," Athos said, relieved. He had not been very worried, especially after Aramis' and Porthos' reassurances, but he had needed to hear it from D'Artagnan himself.

"You did not go too far, Athos," D'Artagnan told him, sensing some of his lover's anxiety. "I would not have let you. I may have been submitting to you but I was still more than capable of stopping things if I had needed to."

Athos squeezed his hand, his eyes unconsciously shifting to Aramis for a moment. He knew D'Artagnan believed he could have stopped things but he had to wonder. He knew when Aramis was like that he was incapable of refusing them. He had to wonder if the same was not true for D'Artagnan as well.

"I am not Aramis, love," D'Artagnan said, cutting right to the heart of the matter. "I may be submitting but I am not...not inside myself as he is. I am still quite present."

"I'm sorry," Athos said. "I do not mean to doubt you."

"You have nothing to apologize for. You are merely concerned for my well-being. That is not a bad thing. But I meant what I said. I am not Aramis. You do not have to worry in that regard."

"So we weren't too rough on you?" Porthos asked. Now that Athos had been reassured that he had not forced the boy, he wanted to make sure they had not done any inadvertent harm to him. 

"No," D'Artagnan told him. "Like I told Aramis, I'm tired and sore but I'm not in any real pain. You didn't hurt me, Porthos."

"Alright, lad, I'll take your word for it," Porthos said. "But I want you to take it easy today."

"That's not necessary," D'Artagnan tried to argue.

"Possibly not, but a day spent in bed will not do you any harm either," Aramis countered.

"And what are you three going to be doing while I'm stuck in bed all day?" D'Artagnan asked.

"I thought Aramis would likely keep you company," Athos said. "Porthos and I will take care of things around the manor today so we will be near to hand as well."

"I can help..." Aramis began.

"You will be," Athos said, stopping him. "And you can't tell me that you actually want to let him go. You've been wrapped around each other since we came to bed last night. You didn't even let him go long enough to eat."

"Ah, sorry," Aramis said, flushing hotly.

"None of that now," Porthos scolded gently. "You want your boy close. We don't have a problem with that. A day spent resting will do both of you some good. Don't worry, when you get tired of being stuck in here, we'll carry you out to the sitting room."

"I can walk," D'Artagnan protested.

"You think you can walk," Porthos countered. "You haven't actually tried yet. And if you think I'm being overly cautious, just ask Aramis what walking was like after that time I chased him to the glade."

"Porthos is right there, love," Aramis agreed. "You are not in pain now but you are still abed. If you try to get up and move around, I assure you that will change."

"Alright," D'Artagnan acquiesced, knowing he was not going to win this argument, not against all three of them. "But you have to stay with me then."

"I can think of no place I would rather be."


	7. Chapter 7

La Oscuridad swirled amid the confines of the shed where it remained trapped. It was growing stronger every day and knew it would soon be strong enough to break free of this prison. The most important thing would be to make sure it went unnoticed when it did so. It would not due to have the Seminarian find out about it before it was ready. Not that it thought he would be able to stop it. By the time it made its move to break free, it would be far too strong for the Seminarian to stop. 

In the meantime, however, there was nothing to stop it from experimenting. It already knew it could reach outside the confines of the small shed. Not far, mind, but it could still breech the wooden walls of its prison. The question was just how far did its reach now extend. 

As it pondered all of this and more, it felt the woman draw near. It had seen her before, in the mind of the Seminarian as well as that of the Treville. This woman was important to them. One called her Sister and the other Lover. 

It did not often take women. They usually lacked the power and standing necessary to further its cause, anything they had superseded by the dictates of their men. Bathory had been one of the few women it had ever taken as one of its own. She had been exceptional in every way. While it did not believe this woman, this Constance, to be nearly as formidable, she could still be of use to it.

As she drew closer, La Oscuridad gathered its strength. Carefully, it began to seep outside of its prison. It was surprised by how far it was able to reach. It was growing strong indeed. As the woman talked to one of the Musketeers, she took a step backward, putting her within its range. 

Like smoke, it swirled around her ankle, sliding beneath her billowing skirts and up her thigh. She gave the smallest of flinches as it seeped into her, penetrating her skin and wrapping itself around her soul. It had just enough time to enjoy the feel of her before she stepped forward again, giving it no choice but to recede back into its prison once more.

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They lasted until noontime before d'Artagnan insisted on a change of scenery. He had thought his lovers had been kidding about not allowing him to walk. He found out just how wrong he was when Porthos came and lifted him from the bed before he could do more than throw the covers back. He had blushed hotly as his brother carried him, insisting that he was capable of walking the short distance. Porthos, however, had only grinned as he ignored his protests and deposited him carefully onto the divan in the sitting room.

"I shall fix us something to eat and join you," Aramis said as he headed for the kitchen only to find the way blocked by Athos.

"Go be with him," Athos said. "We shall join you shortly with lunch."

"I am not the one in need of your care today," Aramis laughed.

"Aramis," Athos said, putting the slightest hint of command in his voice. "You do not wish to disobey, do you?"

Aramis sucked in a breath, his eyes going wide. "No, Sir," he whispered, swallowing thickly.

"Good boy," Athos replied. He reached out and cupped Aramis' cheek, stroking his thumb over his slightly parted lips and pulling a gasp from the man. "Go on now. Porthos and I will join you shortly."

"Are you alright?" D'Artagnan asked when Aramis sat down beside him, a stunned look on his face. 

Shaking his head as if to clear it, he pulled d'Artagnan into his arms, taking comfort in the solid weight of him. "I do not believe I shall ever get used to Athos being so...so..."

"So demanding?" D'Artagnan asked when Aramis struggled to find the right word.

"And so conscious of the fact that he can be," Aramis agreed. "That he may do this and I...I will obey."

"Is it too much?" D'Artagnan asked, concerned that Aramis might be feeling overwhelmed by their lover's abrupt change. "He will back off if you need him to."

"I know," Aramis smiled softly. "I think that is why I can obey him so willingly, because I know he will stop the moment I truly need him to."

Wrapped up in Aramis' arms, D'Artagnan let himself relax. He was glad Aramis had such trust in them but he would still speak to Athos so he might know to keep an eye on things. Aramis was beautiful in his submission to them. D'Artagnan did not want to see anything happen to harm that. After everything the man had endured, it was a miracle he could still allow himself this at all. D'Artagnan vowed to do whatever necessary to see that did not change.

Aramis could tell that D'Artagnan was thinking over what he had said and hugged him tighter. Their youngest worried so much for him that he felt guilty at times. He knew the lad worried for all of them, but none so much as he, and he had to wonder again if he was placing too heavy a burden on such young shoulders.

While D'Artagnan and Aramis remained in the sitting room, each lost in his own thoughts, Athos and Porthos went about putting a meal together for the four of them. As they were preparing to join the others, Athos halted his brother. "Would you mind taking Aramis with you tonight?" He asked.

"Of course not," Porthos replied, a bit surprised by the request. "Is something wrong?"

"No," Athos quickly assured him. "I merely find myself wishing for some time alone with D'Artagnan."

"You didn't go too far, brother," Porthos said, sensing Athos' true reason. "But I can keep Aramis occupied all the same."

The rest of the day passed amiably, with Athos and Porthos refusing to let the other two do much of anything. Aramis had groused about it at first, but a stern look from Athos had stopped him cold. Finally, Athos cast a glance at Porthos and nodded when he caught the man's eye.

"How about you turn your boy loose for awhile, huh love?" Porthos asked. He was careful with his wording, being more gentle than he normally would be. He could tell something was on Aramis' mind and had been all day. He hoped once they were alone, his lover would confide in him.

Aramis looked back and forth between D'Artagnan and Porthos as if unsure how to reply. It wasn't that he didn't want to spend time with Porthos, for he did. Quite badly. But he had failed to protect the boy once, he would not do so again.

Porthos saw his lover's hesitation and frowned, his earlier concern intensifying. He started to ask what was wrong when d'Artagnan's quiet voice stopped him.

"It's okay," D'Artagnan said softly as he squeezed Aramis' hand. "Athos will be with me." He wasn't sure what it was that Aramis was so afraid of but he knew that look.

"Of course," Aramis said, feeling foolish for his unfounded worry. He gave d'Artagnan's hand a last squeeze then released it and stood.

Athos and D'Artagnan watched as Porthos led Aramis from the room. Athos could feel D'Artagnan start to tense beside him and slowly placed his arm around him. "Porthos will see to him," he said, hoping Aramis' behavior was the reason for is lover's sudden tension.

"I know," D'Artagnan said. "But he is struggling and I cannot help but worry for him."

"Struggling?"

"This is a side of you we have not seen before," D'Artagnan explained. "Aramis...he is struggling to adjust to it."

"If I have upset him in some way..."

"No," D'Artagnan said quickly.

"But?"

D'Artagnan sighed, knowing the futility of trying to hide something from Athos. "Just...be mindful of it. This is new for him. I would not see either of you hurt because of it."

"I will keep your words in mind," Athos told him. "Now let us put aside those concerns for a bit. I would have this night be for us."

"Oh. You worked this out with Porthos, didn't you?"

"I asked him if he would mind spending this night with Aramis so I might have some time with you," Athos admitted. "I hope you do not mind."

"Not at all," D'Artagnan smiled bashfully. "I always enjoy time spent in your company. I know I have been rather occupied of late. I hope I have not made you feel neglected in some way."

"Peace, love," Athos replied. "You were always near and I knew if I had need of you all I had to do was say as much. I do not begrudge you your time with Aramis. And before you say it, Porthos is fine with it as well."

"You all indulge me far too much," D'Artagnan mumbled.

"Surely you are not serious," Athos scoffed. "We have barely begun to indulge you as you put it."

"Athos..."

"It is true, D'Artagnan," Athos said. "You mean so much to us all. You mean so much to me. I love you."

"I love you, too," D'Artagnan replied, his voice thick with emotion. "You mean so much to me. I try to live up to you, to be good enough for you. I know I don't even come close, but..."

"How can you say that?" Athos asked, aghast that he would think such a thing. "You are good enough. You are more than good enough for me. For Aramis. For Porthos. For anyone. You bring joy and light wherever you go."

"Athos," D'Artagnan whispered, ducking his head in embarrassment. He thought he might never get accustomed to hearing such words of praise directed at him. 

"Come," Athos said, getting to his feet and holding out a hand to D'Artagnan. "Let us retire to our room. We can finish this conversation there."

D'Artagnan let himself be pulled up, grateful that Athos did not insist on carrying him. After a few steps he thought he understood why the others had been so insistent. While he was not exactly in pain, he could feel his body protesting the movement. "I understand now why you did not want me walking earlier," he chuckled as they entered their room.

Athos froze, his eyes quickly scanning his lover as his words sank in. "Are you in pain?" He asked, his hand going to his arm to steady him.

"No," D'Artagnan shook his head. "But I would have been had I tried to walk before now."

"Come," Athos said, leading him to the bed and sitting him down. "Do you want to take your smalls off or would you prefer to leave them on?"

"Off, definitely," he replied. "But I can manage."

"I know you can," Athos said, his hands covering d'Artagnan's own. "But I would feel privileged if you allowed me to take care of you tonight. I know you do not like being coddled like this..."

"That is not it," D'Artagnan said, refusing to allow Athos to think he did not enjoy his attention. "I just... I am not accustomed to such treatment."

"Something else we shall be remedying then," Athos said. "Now let me help you then I can undress and join you in our bed."

"Alright," D'Artagnan relented, pulling his hands back and allowing Athos to do as he would.

Smiling at his lover, Athos slowly removed the last of his clothes, mindful of the discomfort he was still in. Once D'Artagnan was naked, Athos spent a moment just looking at him. Even now it still amazed him that this man was his. Why this beautiful young man would want him was beyond his comprehension. But even though he did not understand it, he vowed then and there not to take it for granted. Perhaps when Aramis was finally finished, Athos would do a little wooing of his own.

After helping D'Artagnan get settled in their bed, Athos stepped back and began to shed his own clothes. He could feel the weight of his lover's eyes on him and slowed his movements, drawing it out for him. When he was at last naked, he slid into bed beside him, pressing the other man back until he was lying flat and looking up at him.

"You are beautiful," Athos told him as he leaned down and kissed him. He did so slowly, savoring the taste and feel of him. When D'Artagnan began to moan into their kiss, he reluctantly pulled back.

"Why did you stop?" D'Artagnan groaned.

"Because I want to talk to you and if I do not stop now, I will not."

"Did I do something?" D'Artagnan asked, knowing it normally did not bode well for him when someone wanted to _talk_.

"No," Athos reassured him, smiling gently. "I only wished to discuss what we did yesterday. While Porthos and Aramis have both assured me that I did not go too far, I find myself needing to hear as much from you as well."

"Oh, Athos, no," D'Artagnan said in a rush. "What you did for me... It was... I never expected..."

"Easy, love," Athos soothed. "So I was not too hard on you? You enjoyed your fantasy?"

"More than I can say," D'Artagnan replied. "I would not mind, sometime, for just the two of us..."

"Just the two of us?" Athos queried when D'Artagnan trailed off.

"If we were together that way, just you and I," D'Artagnan explained. "Without Aramis and Porthos there."

"I... I am not sure," Athos said hesitantly. He did not want to disappoint his lover but he did not know how wise it was to attempt such a thing without someone else there to ensure nothing went wrong.

"You don't want to?" D'Artagnan asked, frowning. He knew that was not the case. He had seen the desire flare in Athos' eyes when he had made the suggestion, but something was holding him back. 

"It isn't that," Athos said, though he failed to elaborate further.

"Is it that you prefer Boy there as well to...play with?" D'Artagnan asked, only half joking. "Or perhaps it is simply that you prefer having Boy there to watch. Is that it, Athos? Do you enjoy the knowledge that you are using me so in front of him?"

Athos huffed out a laugh and shook his head. "It is not that, either," he said, knowing that D'Artagnan had only been teasing him. "I am just worried that, without anyone else to keep me in check, I might take things too far."

"Athos, you would never hurt me," D'Artagnan told him with no small amount of exasperation, fond though it was. "The very moment I told you to stop, genuinely told you to stop, you would."

"And if I do not recognize your _genuine_ request?"

"You will," D'Artagnan said firmly. "You know me, Athos. You know my heart. You will know."

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"So," Porthos began as he pulled Aramis against him in their bed. "You want to tell me what's bothering you?"

Aramis sighed as he snuggled into Porthos' side. He should have known Porthos would notice. He was just grateful he had waited until they were alone to ask. "I failed to do as I had promised and it is weighing on me," he offered, futilely hoping he would let the matter drop.

"Failed how?" Porthos asked, confused as to what Aramis could be referring to.

"Failed to watch over D'Artagnan as I should have," Aramis explained. He saw Porthos frown and went on. "I promised to look after him, to ensure he was not hurt. It is rather difficult to do that whilest bound and gagged."

"Okay, first, he wasn't hurt so you didn't fail him," Porthos said. "Second, if he had been in danger nothing would have stopped you from getting to him. Certainly not a single rope binding you to a chair leg. You would have either freed yourself or kicked up such a fuss that one of us would have stopped to check on you. Likely the boy himself would have considering how protective he is of you. You did not fail him, love. You could not. He is far too precious to you to ever do so."

Aramis looked up at his lover taking in the sincerity on his face and felt his eyes sting. He quickly looked down, burying his face in Pothos' chest to hide his sudden emotion. Porthos truly believed what he said, that he had not failed in his duty to D'Artagnan. That knowledge eased the tight knot of guilt that had been growing within him since last night.

Porthos lay still, quietly waiting for Aramis to come to grips with what he had said. He had not missed the brightness in his eyes when he had looked up at him. He wished now that he had spoken to him sooner. He had not realized he was carrying such guilt and worry within him. Slowly, he felt him start to relax against him and knew that he had finally accepted his words for truth.

"Feel better, love?" Porthos asked softly. He was rewarded with a shaky nod against him. Relieved, he hugged Aramis to him, holding him while he finished collecting himself.

"You always know just what I need," Aramis sighed against him.

"Hardly," Porthos laughed. "I just know you'd never fail in your duty to any of us, least of all the Whelp."

Deciding they had spent quite enough of their time together on D'Artagnan, Aramis rolled on top of his lover. He smiled down at him, his most mischievous grin, letting his lover know he very much wanted to...play.

"Someone's feeling frisky," Porthos grinned up at him. He gripped Aramis' ass through his small clothes, squeezing hard and drawing a gasp from his lover. He could feel the man's cock hardening and used his grip to grind their bodies together. 

"Porthos..." Aramis moaned as he tried to both push back into his lover's hands and grind against him at the same time.

"Have you been a good boy, Aramis?" Porthos teased. "Do you deserve a treat? Or have you been a bad boy?"

"Oh," Aramis gasped and arched. "I've been a bad boy. I've been a very bad boy. What are you going to do about it?"

Porthos hesitated for a moment then let go of Aramis' ass. He saw the question in his lover's eyes right before he brought his hand back and down hard on his backside. The startled yelp that burst from the man froze him in place as he scanned his lover's face for his reaction.

Aramis had been caught completely off-guard by the hard swat to his backside and could not stop the noise of surprise that slipped from him. As soon as his mind registered what had happened, he felt a bolt of lust lance through him. That Porthos would do this, would attempt to give him this, was more than he had ever dreamed of. Moaning softly, he ground his hard cock against Porthos, letting his body speak for him.

Porthos saw the moment when his lover realized what he had done. He saw Aramis' eyes go wide in shock then darken in unmistakable lust. He could feel his now fully hard cock pressing against him and had to bite back a moan of his own at his lover's wanton display.

"You sure?" Porthos asked, needing to hear Aramis say it before things went any further.

"Yes," Aramis breathed. "Oh yes. Please, Porthos."

"You been a bad boy," Porthos told him as he rubbed his hand over the place where he had swatted him. "And you know what happens to bad boys, don't you?"

Aramis licked his lips as he stared down at his lover, hardly daring to believe that this was really happening. "They...they get spanked," he offered.

"That's right," Porthos said, his confidence growing at the look of want in Aramis' eyes. He pushed Aramis off of him then sat up, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. "Now get up and get this smalls off. A boy as bad as you doesn't deserve any protection."

"Yes, Sir," Aramis replied, scrambling off the bed to do as Porthos ordered. He could feel his heart hammering in his chest and had to take a deep breath to try to calm himself. His cock was so hard he thought he might spend himself then and there. 

Porthos watched avidly as Aramis stripped off his clothes, leaving himself bare. His own cock gave a jerk at the sight of Aramis standing before him, naked and waiting. Aramis' cock jutted out, ruddy and flushed, and Porthos couldn't resist the urge to reach out and stroke him just once. 

Aramis stumbled forward when Porthos took his cock in hand and stroked him, nearly falling before he caught himself. He gripped Porthos' shoulder to steady himself but made no other move. He tried to keep from making any noise but the feel of Porthos' hand on him was too good and he heard himself keen in want.

"God, Aramis. Just looking at you leaves my control in tatters," Porthos rumbled as he gave his lover's cock a final squeeze before letting go. He slid back on the bed a bit, wanting to give Aramis ample room. 

"It is the same for me," Aramis said as he tried to push down his desire.

"Think you better get across my lap before I change my mind and just throw you down and fuck you," Porthos said as he gestured to his slightly spread legs.

Aramis acted at once, climbing onto the bed and situating himself across Porthos' lap. He had to bite his lip not to moan when Porthos man-handled him into the position he wanted him in. In the end, Aramis ended up with his upturned ass resting right over Porthos' lap, his hands pulled behind his back and held in place by his lover's firm grip.

Porthos took his time getting Aramis settled. He knew he was stalling but he could not help the sudden nervousness that had come over him. Telling himself that Aramis wanted this, he took a deep breath and brought his free hand down hard and fast.

The sound of Porthos' hand striking unprotected flesh was so loud that both men jerked. A second later, Aramis moaned and Porthos watched as the skin he had struck turned pink. Tightening his grip on his lover's wrists, he brought his hand down again making Aramis gasp and squirm.

Aramis thought he had found Heaven as the delicious sensations began to roll through him. He had felt the force of his lover's blow all the way to his toes and he ached for more. He tried not to squirm, to hold still, but it was impossible. His cock was already hard and leaking between his legs, leaving a sticky trail over Porthos' lap, and they had barely begun.

"You're supposed to be learnin' a lesson for being a bad boy," Porthos said, drawing back and swatting him hard again. "Not writhing all over my lap like a bitch in heat." Before Aramis could formulate a reply, Porthos began spanking him in earnest. He rained down a dozen heavy blows without pause, enthralled by Aramis' steadily darkening flesh and the man's ever increasing moans.

Porthos paused then, taking in the sight before him. Aramis lay across his lap, shuddering and moaning, his ass now bright pink. Porthos could feel his hard cock brushing against his thighs and had to bite back a moan of his own. Slowly, he reached out and laid his hand over Aramis' freshly spanked bottom. The amount of heat coming off of him was startling and Porthos barely resisted the urge to squeeze the tender flesh beneath his hand.

Aramis felt Porthos lay his hand atop his stinging backside and very nearly keened. He had not expected Porthos to go through with it, let alone to this degree. His ass burned where Porthos had spanked him repeatedly and the feel of his hand there now was sending spikes of pleasure/pain all along his nerves. If his lover kept this up, he would end up spending all over both of them from nothing more than this.

"Fuck, Aramis. You're such a beautiful slut," Porthos said as he ran his hand over his reddened ass making Aramis gasp even as he tried to push back into his touch. "So needy. I bet you're just aching for my cock."

"Yes," Aramis rasped, his entire body on fire.

"Beg me for it," Porthos ordered, lifting his hand away.

"Please," Aramis begged at once. He felt bereft without Porthos' hand on him and needed it back. "Please, Porthos. Please, spank me. Spank me until I scream."

"Gonna make you spend like this," Porthos vowed. He drew back his arm and started spanking Aramis again, even harder than before. His lover shouted at the intensity of it, the bed doing little to muffle him, as Porthos set about turning his ass to fire.

"Yes!" Aramis cried out and tried to push his hips up. He felt Porthos' hand tighten on his wrists and press them into his back to hold him in place. That only made it better, feeling Porthos' broad, strong hand holding him down, giving him no choice but to take it.

Porthos growled, his own cock turning to steel as Aramis writhed and twisted in his grip. The knowledge that he was driving Aramis wild like this, that his lover trusted him enough to allow such, only increased Porthos' own desire. As he continued to rain down blows, he could feel the flesh growing hot beneath his hand as pink quickly turned to red. Knowing this needed to end soon, Porthos changed his attack and began spanking Aramis on the back of his thighs.

Aramis felt Porthos strike him hard on his untouched thighs and screamed into the bed. Fire shot through him from the force of his lover's blows, nearly stealing his breath. Moaning and shaking, he tried to ride out the feeling as his lover continued to rain down blow after blow on his helpless body. In the end, all it took was a single blow to the tender place where his ass and thigh met to send him over the edge. Shouting hoarsely, he began to spend across Porthos' lap, his hips thrusting wildly as his body was overcome.

Porthos thought he had never seen anything as beautiful, as wild, as Aramis coming undone across his lap. He had nearly lost his grip on the man's wrists as he bucked atop him. Now, he simply waited for his lover to ride out his pleasure and calm. His own cock was throbbing insistently in his smalls, but he did his best to ignore it. The feel of Aramis writhing like a thing possessed as well as the feel of his spend splattering his legs only made it worse though.

Finally spent, Aramis sagged against his lover. He felt weak all over as fine tremors wracked his overwrought body. He did not think he had ever spent so hard in his life. Even now he struggled to regain control of himself, his muscles feeling as if they had turned to jelly.

"You alright, love?" Porthos asked. He had released Aramis' wrists and lowered his arms down to the bed gently.

"Ask me tomorrow," Aramis rasped, his voice strained from shouting as he had.

Porthos let out a relieved chuckle and began to carefully move Aramis off his lap. He made sure to keep hold of him, not trusting the man not to end up in a heap on the floor if he let go. He bit off a moan when Aramis accidentally brushed his swollen groin, his bollocks tightening dangerously. Not wanting to spend in his linen, he laid Aramis down on his back on the bed and stood. Pushing his smalls out of the way, Porthos drew his hard cock out and began to fist himself over his lover's spent body. When he glanced at Aramis' face and saw him lick his lips as he stared up at him, he was lost. With a shout of his own, Porthos began to spend, adding his own seed to the mess striping his lover's chest and belly.

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As Athos and D'Artagnan lay in their bed enjoying simply being together, Athos began to think. He had seen the way D'Artagnan had reacted to the Captain's letter. He knew their youngest was still dangerously angry over what happened. In truth, Athos did not blame him. But he also knew how very badly Aramis wished for a reconciliation. Simply put, he missed his sister.

"What is it?" D'Artagnan asked, sensing that Athos had something on his mind.

"I would like to speak with you about something, but I do not wish to anger you," Athos replied honestly.

D'Artagnan blew out a breath and scowled. He had been laying curled against Athos' side but rolled over onto his back at his words. He knew of only one topic Athos could worry so about. The problem was, he was not at all sure he was ready to talk about Constance, even with Athos.

"I'm sorry," Athos said when D'Artagnan rolled away from him. "I shall not mention..."

"Peace, Athos," D'Artagnan said. He groped between them until he found Athos' hand and held it, though his eyes remained fixed on the ceiling. "I am not angry with you. Tell me what it is you want to discuss about it."

Taking heart at his reassurance, Athos decided to at least attempt to discuss the matter. "I know you are still angry and I do not blame you," he began.

"But?" D'Artagnan pressed when Athos hesitated.

"But Aramis misses her," Athos said with a sigh. "She is his sister and he loves her. He will not push you in this. None of us will. But this discord between you pains him."

"I know," D'Artagnan admitted resignedly. "And I know he blames himself for it no matter what I say to the contrary."

"He wants to be at her wedding," Athos added softly. It was not his intention to guilt D'Artagnan into a reconciliation, but Aramis was hurting.

"When did you wish to return?" D'Artagnan asked, his words stiff and wooden as if they pained him to say.

"I do not mean to force you into this if you are not ready."

"I do not believe I shall ever be ready, but I will do what needs to be done for my family's sake," he said. "Just... I do not want Aramis there when I speak with her. Not the first time, at least. His presence will only remind me of why I am so angry in the first place."

"Alright," Athos agree at once, jumping at the chance to work things out. "Perhaps you and I could take a trip to Paris. It would allow you to speak with her without the worry of hurting Aramis."

"I do not require a chaperone," D'Artagnan huffed, though he smiled as he said it.

"On the contrary, love, I think perhaps you do," Athos told him. "If for no other reason than to give you someone to talk things through with. Besides, after what happened the last time we let you go to Paris alone, we're not taking any chances."

"The horses have been reshod," D'Artagnan grumbled but there was no heat in his words. Considering how badly he had been thrown, they were lucky he only broke his wrist. If it had been one of them, he knew he would not be able to stomach the thought of them going alone either.

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As Porthos lay in bed with Aramis tucked up against him, his thoughts began to drift. Soon enough they turned to the Captain and Constance. He could understand the Whelp's anger. He truly could, but the Captain and Constance both had done so much for them. And he knew how badly Aramis wanted to be at her wedding. The thought that he might not be able to, well...

"Dwelling on it will not help matters any," Aramis said as he lay resting. He could tell something was on his lover's mind and he had a good idea what that something was. 

"I know," Porthos said. "I just wish there was some way we could help him to get past this."

"I am afraid only time can do that," Aramis said with a sigh. He, too, wished there was some way they could help their youngest get past the hurt Constance had caused him. He knew D'Artagnan loved her dearly and this rift between them tore at him.

They lay together quietly, each lost in his thoughts, for awhile longer. There was something Aramis wanted to talk about with Porthos, but he was unsure about bringing the subject up. The absolute last thing he ever wanted to do was cause Porthos to liken what they had just shared to...them.

Taking a deep breath, Aramis hesitated, then began. "Porthos, can I tell you something?"

"Anything," Porthos replied, frowning in confusion as to why Aramis would even ask him such a thing.

"That was the first time, in a very long time, that I have done that for pleasure," Aramis said carefully.

"How long?" Porthos asked warily.

"Since...them," Aramis admitted. "I had sought it out as a means of punishing myself, but never for pleasure. Not until now."

Porthos lay completely still as he took in what Aramis was telling him. He would have thought this something he had already explored with his Master. He knew he trusted the boy enough. So why had he refrained until now?

"Ask what you will," Aramis said softly. He could see that Porthos was struggling with what he had said and wanted to help him understand.

"Not even with the Whelp?" Porthos asked.

"No," Aramis said. "In his eyes, Little One is too precious for such things. He only spanks me at all to try to alleviate my guilt. He could not bring himself to do so for any other reason."

"Yeah, okay," Porthos replied. He understood what Aramis meant about Little One. He didn't think he could raise a hand to Aramis when he was like that either. "What about Boy?"

"We have not really played much," Aramis told him. "Boy normally comes out for you and Athos. Or all of us together. I have rarely been Boy when it is just the two of us."

"And after the way I acted, he'd never chance doing something like that in front of me," Porthos said. "I'm sorry, love. I didn't mean to stop the two of you..."

"Porthos," Aramis huffed. "You stopped nothing. In truth, I have not even attempted to seek this with D'Artagnan. I... I do not know that I want to."

"Oh," Porthos said, surprised again. "But you want it with me?"

"Yes," Aramis answered, his voice suddenly tight at the thought of it.

"Then you'll have it."


	8. Chapter 8

"Do you think Aramis will overly object to our going to Paris without him and Porthos?" D'Artagnan asked. He lay back against Athos' chest, the man's arms wrapped around him as they lounged on the divan in the sitting room. He wasn't overly worried about Aramis' reaction, but he didn't want the man to think that he was the reason they wished to go alone. It wasn't that Aramis wasn't ready, for d'Artagnan knew he was. He was growing stronger and more confident every day. It was more that d'Artagnan did not trust himself and he didn't want to see Aramis caught in the middle if things turned ugly between him and Constance again.

"No," Athos answered after giving it some thought. "I think he will worry but that would be the case were it any of us to go without the others. Just like you, he worries when we are not all together. I think, if you explain it to him, that he will understand."

D'Artagnan's reply was interrupted by the arrival of the other two. They were both smiling widely. Aramis even appeared to be on the verge of giggling. At least he was until he noticed Athos and d'Artagnan on the divan and froze. 

"Aramis?" D'Artagnan called, frowning at his lover's sudden change in demeanor. "What's wrong?"

"Ah, nothing," Aramis said. He looked away, not wanting to meet d'Artagnan's eyes just then. He could not believe that they had forgotten, that _he_ had forgotten. His Master had asked to be allowed to be there the first time Porthos spanked him, to oversee things as it were. They had readily agreed but instead of honoring that, they had let themselves get carried away. 

"I don't think you are being entirely truthful," d'Artagnan said carefully. He did not want to call Aramis a liar but it was clear that something was wrong. He had been fine until he entered the sitting room and saw him and Athos on the divan. Since he did not think Athos was the problem, that left only him.

"I..." Aramis hesitated, his eyes cutting to Porthos. He needed to speak to his Master but he wanted to do so in private. He did not want his Master angry with Porthos. He was the one who had made the request, after all. 

"'Mis? What is it?" Porthos asked. He could tell something was upsetting his lover and it looked like it had to do with the Whelp. 

Squaring his shoulders, Aramis met d'Artagnan's eyes. "I need to speak with you when you have a moment," he said as calmly as he could.

"Of course," d'Artagnan replied, rising at once. He went to Aramis and took him by the arm, gently steering him from the room. He had not missed the looks of worry on the others' faces and felt his own worry increase.

He took them to what they considered their room. He sat Aramis down on the bed and turned to close the door. When he turned back around he found Aramis had moved from the bed onto his knees, his head bowed. If he did not know better, he would think he was dealing with Little One rather than Aramis.

"Aramis?" He called softly when the man made no move to so much as raise his head. His stomach twisted when he received no reply and he tried again. "Little One?"

"I am sorry, Master," Aramis whispered, his eyes still glued to the floor.

"Whatever it is, it will be alright," d'Artagnan told him as he approached him. He stopped just in front of him and slid his hand into his hair, gently caressing his scalp. He felt him sudden under his touch and he frowned again.

"I..." Aramis tried to speak but the words would not come. Other than "that time" he had never willfully disobeyed his Master. That he had done so now tore at him.

"Tell me," d'Artagnan said softly but firmly. "Tell me what is troubling you, what it is you are sorry for."

"I disobeyed you," Aramis admitted. "I did not mean to. I swear I did not."

"Disobeyed me how?" D'Artagnan asked. He could not think of any command he had given the man so had no idea what he could be referring to.

"Porthos and I..." Aramis began then trailed off. He took a breath and forced himself to begin again. "Last night, when Porthos and I were together, we were playing...teasing."

"Tell me what you did," d'Artagnan said more firmly. He could see how badly Aramis was struggling with this and wanted to get it out in the open so he could help him past it.

"I asked him to spank me," Aramis admitted in a rush. 

"And he did," d'Artagnan said, understanding now what was upsetting him so much. He had told the pair he wanted to be there and they had gone ahead without him. But where Aramis saw this as disobedience on his part, d'Artagnan did not. He had only wanted to be there to ensure no one was harmed. 

"Yes, Master," Aramis said. "Please do not be angry with him. The fault was mine. I asked him and..."

"Little One," d'Artagnan broke in, stopping him mid-sentence. "I am not upset with you. You did not disobey me. I only wanted to be there to make sure you were not hurt."

"But we said..."

"Look at me," d'Artagnan said, stopping him again. He waited as Aramis slowly raised his eyes then brought his hand around to cup his cheek. "I am not upset with you. You did nothing wrong. I am glad the two of you were able to come together in this way."

"I should have asked," Aramis insisted, though the conviction had gone out of his words.

"You need never ask my permission to be with Porthos, regardless of the manner in which you do so," d'Artagnan told him firmly. "Athos either. They are your lovers. I would never seek to limit how you share yourself with them."

Aramis stared up at his Master for long seconds. He could see the sincerity in his eyes and felt his fears calm. Turning his head, he nuzzled his Master's palm, grateful once again for the young man's seemingly endless understanding and care. 

Out in the sitting room, Porthos sat down on the divan next to Athos. They had watched the Whelp lead Aramis from the room and were worried. Athos had no idea what could have made Aramis go from smiling and laughing to looking afraid in the blink of an eye. He cast a glance at Porthos and watched as the confusion on his face gave way to fear as well.

"You know what that was about, I take it?" Athos asked.

"I got an idea, yeah," Porthos said as he rubbed his hand over his face. He saw Athos arch an eyebrow in silent query and explained. "Me and Aramis were fooling around last night and I kinda ended up spanking him. We both forgot about the Whelp wanting to be there the first time."

"Ah," Athos said. No wonder Aramis had looked so fearful. He would have considered their actions as his defiance of his Master's wishes. "I doubt you have anything to worry about. D'Artagnan was only concerned for his well-being. He will not hold this against either of you. Stop looking so worried, brother. You did nothing wrong."

When the pair rejoined them a few minutes later, both men breathed a sigh of relief at the sight of d'Artagnan holding Aramis' hand and smiling fondly. The two on the divan instinctively moved apart when they approached to make room in the middle for them. 

"You do know we can take the outside as well," d'Artagnan said as he and Aramis sat down, Aramis doing so much more gingerly than he normally would. "You do not need to always be apart."

"We know," Athos said as he pulled his lover back against him as much as he could. "But we like you here, between us, where we can shelter and protect you. Just as you prefer to always have us within earshot if not sight."

"You're precious to us, the both of you," Porthos added. "This is our way of showing it."

"As you wish," d'Artagnan subsided, blushing faintly. He still had a hard time accepting such words being directed at him, even from his brothers. He was learning, but it would take time. 

"So, uh, everything okay?" Porthos could not help but ask. He could see that Aramis was relaxed but any number of things could account for that, several of which he didn't want to think about.

"All is well, Porthos," d'Artagnan said. "I only wished to be there to ensure no one was hurt. I do not mind that you went ahead without me. As I told Aramis, I would never seek to limit how the two of you come together. I am simply glad that things went well for you both."

"You're a good man, d'Artagnan," Porthos said, the last of his worry dissipating at the boy's reassurance. He reached out, intent on pulling Aramis against him much the same way Athos had d'Artagnan. He had just started pulling him back when a surprised yelp startled them all.

"Ah, sorry," Aramis said, blushing hotly as three pairs of eyes regarded him. "I am still a bit, um, tender."

"Oh," Porthos said, realizing what Aramis meant. He felt his own face heat and ducked his head.

"Do I need to fetch your salve?" D'Artagnan asked, barely able to keep from laughing at the way both his brothers were blushing.

"Perhaps later," Aramis said as he carefully maneuvered himself so that he was lying back against Porthos without putting undue pressure on his more tender areas.

"Alright," d'Artagnan grinned. 

"Since we are all here, there is something I would like to talk to you both about," Athos said once everyone was settled.

"What is it?" Porthos aske, curious as to why Athos had not made mention of anything when they were alone.

"D'Artagnan and I were discussing the situation with Constance," he began. He felt d'Artagnan stiffen in his arms and hugged him tighter. "He would like to speak with her, to try to clear the air, but he does not wish all of us to be there when he does."

"You don't want me there?" Aramis asked, knowing at once that it was his presence that was not desired.

"I always want you with me," d'Artagnan told him. "But, if you are there, I am much more likely to lose my temper again. To protect you is all but instinctual. It is not something I can simply not do. And while my head may know that she is no real threat, my heart is not so easily convinced."

"You're not going alone," Porthos said adamantly. It wasn't so much the meeting with Constance that had him worried as it was the memory of what happened the last time. Added to that was the very real possibility of him running into the couple that hurt Aramis again. If that happened, Porthos wasn't at all sure their boy would be able to keep from killing them on the spot.

"No," Athos agreed, "He is not. I will be going with him. It will give me an opportunity to speak with the Captain as well as to ensure that this one makes it home in one piece."

"I was in one piece the last time," d'Artagnan groused good-naturedly.

"One rather broken piece, if I do recall," Aramis added. He looked at the men across from him and huffed out a breath. "I do not like it, but I understand. If our positions were reversed, I would likely be just as bad. But you do not have to do this if you are not ready."

"I know," d'Artagnan smiled softly. "And I thank you, but it is past time that I let this go. She is your sister. You miss her. That is reason enough for me."

&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M

They waited two more days, wanting to make sure it looked like the weather would hold, before setting out. While it was only a half days ride, inclement weather would make the trip more treacherous. Setting off at first light, the pair bade their lovers goodbye and turned their horses toward Paris.

It was mid-day by the time they arrived in the city. Rather than showing up at the garrison they instead went to their home. After stabling the horses and stowing their gear, they cleaned up and headed out. D'Artagnan had insisted on going to speak with Constance alone. Athos had not liked the idea but had relented, understanding why d'Artagnan did not want him or the Captain present. There were likely to be heated words exchanged before the pair settled their differences and d'Artagnan did not want them caught in the crossfire.

While he was speaking with Constance, Athos would go and speak to the Captain. Once he explained why they had come, the man would most likely want to head home and make sure everything had gone as hoped. Athos was rather counting on that, actually, as it would give him an excuse for coming to check on the pair. 

"I will not lose my temper with her," d'Artagnan told him as they prepared to part ways.

"I believe you mean that," Athos said, deciding to be honest. "But I also know how difficult that might be for you."

"Aramis loves her," d'Artagnan shrugged as if that alone was enough of a reason to hold his tongue.

"You love her, too," Athos reminded him gently. He saw d'Artagnan flinch and wanted to kick himself. All this time they had only spoken of how this was affecting Aramis. They had never once spoken of how this might be affecting d'Artagnan.

"Maybe. Once," d'Artagnan offered, unwilling to say more.

"You did and you do," Athos told him. "You do not simply stop loving someone because they hurt you. The fact that you love them, that is the very reason they were able to hurt you in the first place."

"It was Aramis she hurt," d'Artagnan argued.

"Yes," Athos agreed. "But it was not Aramis alone. She hurt you, too. Her lack of faith in you as well as her accusations hurt you greatly."

"Perhaps," d'Artagnan replied, unwilling to agree any further than that. "But that is not important. And it is not the reason why I have remained so angry. Had it been only my own hurt feelings, we would have reconciled long ago."

"Fair enough," Athos capitulated. This was an argument he was not going to win and there was no sense in riling the boy up before he even saw Constance. "Just remember, you mean a very great deal to all of us. Do not hurt yourself in order to make peace for our sakes."

"I will try, but I make no promises."

As d'Artagnan neared the Captain's house, he found his steps slowing. He was not looking forward to the coming confrontation. Athos was right, he did still care very deeply for Constance which is why it was so hard for him to let go of his anger. She should have known he would not do anything to harm Aramis, not intentionally. Yes, the brand caused him pain but it was nothing in comparison to the black despair that ate at his very soul from that accursed mark. 

Pausing on the doorstep, he took a steadying breath before knocking. He knew there was some small chance that she was out at the market or some such but he doubted it. Constance preferred to do her shopping a bit later in the day than most. All too soon, he heard the sound of the lock being turned then the front door slowly opened. 

Constance had no idea who was calling on her so early of a morning. She did not have any customers due for fittings and even if she had they would have known better than to call on her now. Taking one of Jean's muskets, she unlocked the door and eased it open a crack to see who her caller was. When she saw d'Artagnan standing there looking somewhat pensive she breathed a sigh of relief. A second later, her relief turned to trepidation as she realized he was alone. 

"May I come in?" D'Artagnan asked when Constance made no move to open the door further or invite him inside. He supposed he could not blame her. The last time they had laid eyes on each other things had gotten rather heated. 

"Of course," she replied, shaking herself out of a daze. She stepped back, pulling the door open and allowing him to enter. 

"Were you expecting someone?" He asked when he saw the musket in her hand. He frowned at the thought of someone giving either her or the Captain trouble. If someone was bothering them, he and Athos would see to it first thing.

"No," she laughed as she put the musket back where she had gotten it from. "I wasn't expecting anyone actually."

D'Artagnan nodded, understanding. "I hope I'm not calling on you too early," he began formally. It felt wrong somehow to be so guarded with Constance but he did not want to assume anything.

"Don't be silly," she said as she led him into the kitchen and had him sit down. "You are always welcome here. I... I hope you did not think otherwise."

"I was not sure," d'Artagnan said, opting for honesty. "After the way we left things..."

"I am sorry," she said as she sat down at the table across from him. "I should never have said the things I did. I did not mean to be so disrespectful. Not to any of you. I was just so worried about him."

"I know," d'Artagnan told her. "This entire ordeal has been hard on him. You did not want to see him suffer any more. I commend you for that, but you must understand, what we did...what I did, was infinitely less painful than continuing to wear that mark would have been. You do not know what it was like for him. He saw it as a taint, as something marking him as unclean. I had to do something."

"You love him very much," she said, tears stinging her eyes. She could see now what it was they had been trying to do. She had not realized how onerous Aramis had considered the brand to be. It was not until both Jean and Father Michel sat down and explained things to her, that she had finally grasped the magnitude of the situation. 

"I do," d'Artagnan replied. "I love them all. Perhaps not all in the same manner, but they are all precious to me each in their own way."

"I really am sorry about what I said," she apologized again. "I never meant to hurt either of you."

"You know it was what you said to him that angered me so much, right?"

"Yes," she said. 

"You made him feel..."

"What?" She asked when he fell silent.

"You made him feel as if he had no say, as if he were so badly damaged that he could not even decide his own fate," he explained. He could feel his anger rising again as he thought back on that time and did his best to push it back down. "You made him feel helpless and that is one thing that I cannot abide."

Constance looked away as d'Artagnan's words struck home. She knew he was right. She had belittled and dismissed Aramis and in front of his lovers no less. She deserved every harsh word d'Artagnan threw at her. 

"Constance, look at me," d'Artagnan called softly. He had seen her eyes grow bright just before she looked away and knew she finally understood what she had done. He waited now for her to gather herself and look at him once more.

"I do not know why you even deign to speak to me," she said as she finally looked at him once more. "I am ashamed..."

"Hush," he told her as gently as he could. "I did not mean for my words to shame you. I only wished for you to understand. I see now that you do."

"I'm so..."

"Hush," he said again then reached across the table and took both of her hands in his. "It is done. I forgive you, as I hope you can forgive me for losing my temper and treating you so poorly."

"You need not beg of my forgiveness, d'Artagnan," she said as she squeezed his hands in gratitude. "You had every right to act as you did. You were only protecting him, after all. Tell me, do you think he will ever forgive me for what I did?"

"He already has," d'Artagnan told her. "He forgave you in his heart that very night. I am the one who has had such a hard time letting go of it." He saw her eyes well up and tears begin to fall down her face and quickly came around the table. He knelt next to her and pulled her into a hug, holding her tightly. When she pulled back at last, her eyes were red but her tears had dried and he released her, though he did not move away.

"Thank you," she said. "I had truly come to believe I had lost you both. To know that I have not..."

"You will not lose us, Constance. Even when we fight we are still your brothers. That will never change."

With things seemingly settled between them, d'Artagnan began filling her in on how they were all faring. He avoided any mention of the brand, telling her instead that Aramis was healing and growing stronger day by day. When d'Artagnan asked about the upcoming wedding she grew almost giddy with excitement. D'Artagnan could not help but smile to see her so happy. No matter how things were between them, Constance deserved to be happy and he was glad for her.

Neither of them were surprised when the Captain and Athos showed up around noon time. In truth, d'Artagnan was surprised the pair had waited as long as they had. He knew that was most likely due to Athos. He would have to thank his lover for that. While he certainly could have talked things out with Constance with them there, it would have been uncomfortable for all of them.

"Athos says you're only staying for a day or so," Treville said as they sat around the kitchen table.

"Yes, Sir," d'Artagnan replied. "We just needed to take care of a few things and we wanted to let you know in person that we would be there for the wedding."

"You will?" Constance asked, the hope in her voice easy to hear. She and d'Artagnan may have started rebuilding what was between them but she knew they still had a long way to go. To hear that he was willing to set aside their differences to be at her wedding was more than she had dared hope.

"Of course," d'Artagnan told her. "Even if we were still at odds, we would have come. You deserve to be happy. Both of you do and I am so very glad you found each other."

"Thank you, lad," Treville said. "For this and everything else."

When they were getting ready to leave, Constance stopped them. She started to say something then hesitated, suddenly unsure. The second time she opened her mouth only to close it again Treville moved up behind her and placed his hands on her shoulders.

"Ask them," he said. He could feel how tense she was and squeezed gently.

Taking a breath, Constance looked back and forth at the two men before letting her gaze rest on d'Artagnan. "If no one has any objection, and he does not mind, I would very much like for Aramis to give me away," she said.

For a few brief moments there was silence in the room as they took in what she had said. D'Artagnan glanced at Athos but the man looked as stunned as him. When his eyes went to Constance, however, the fear he saw there had him quickly shaking off his stupor. He took her hands in his and simply held them then smiled softly.

"I am sure he would be honored to do this for you," d'Artagnan told her, the relief on her face letting him know he had done the right thing.

As they walked back toward their house, Athos studied the younger man. "I was proud of you back there," he said. 

D'Artagnan didn't reply though he did move closer as they walked. The Captain and Constance had both told them they were welcome to stay the night with them but they had declined. The day had been a trying one for all of them. D'Artagnan knew Athos understood that. He also knew Athos expected him to be angry still and, to some extent, he was. But his refusal to let go of his anger was hurting his family and that was something he would not allow. 

"Are you alright?" Athos asked when d'Artagnan continued to walk silently beside him.

"Yes," d'Artagnan chuckled. "Just thinking about things, that's all."

"Not regretting anything, I hope," Athos said carefully.

"No," D'Artagnan assured him. "They deserve this and I am happy for them."

"In that case, how about if we stop at an inn for a drink then head home?" Athos suggested.

"Awfully early to call it a night, don't you think?" D'Artagnan teased.

"I'm certain we can find some way to entertain ourselves," Athos said, his voice pitched low so that only d'Artagnan could hear him.

"Do you now?" D'Artagnan shot back, his eyes already scanning the area for the nearest pub. He spotted what he wanted a few doors down and motioned toward it.

With a nod, Athos turned and they set off together, their pace a bit quicker than before. As they reached the place, Athos took a second to reflect on how much he had changed. Before all of this, he would have been hurrying to the pub for the wine it offered. Now, he was more anxious to be done with the place so that he and his lover might return home. It was a rather drastic change and not one he had ever expected to make.

“Athos?” D’Artagnan called when the he saw his lover hesitate.

Athos smiled wryly as he shook his head and entered the pub. He could feel d’Artagnan’s eyes on him but he did not mind. He knew he would not question him, not here, and likely not at all. D’Artagnan firmly believed that a man’s secrets were his own and that he was entitled to no more than his lovers wished to share with him. If Athos did not wish to discuss it, he would not press.

D’Artagnan headed toward a table near the back, wanting at least a modicum of privacy. He did not know what had caused Athos to suddenly turn what he could only describe as thoughtful. While it worried him somewhat, he knew the man would tell him if he thought it necessary. If not, then he would trust his brother to keep his own council. 

Even knowing he could trust Athos inherently, it was hard for d’Artagnan to let it go. He knew the likely culprit was the fact that he was still on edge from talking with Constance. The confrontation may have gone well but it was a confrontation nonetheless and his nerves were still braced for a fight. 

“You are tense,” Athos observed as they sat down. He did not miss the fact that d’Artagnan sat with his back to the wall. It was the seat he normally reserved for Athos himself and the fact that he did not only showed how unsettled he was.

“Yes,” d’Artagnan agreed, seeing no reason to deny it. “I know things went well but…”

“But something is still troubling you,” Athos finished for him. “Does it have to do with her or is it something else?”

“I’m not sure,” d’Artagnan huffed. “It’s too hard to tell right now.”

“Hm,” Athos murmured. “Perhaps you are still somewhat expectant of a fight. It happens. Your body and mind have prepared themselves to do battle. When that battle does not come, it can be difficult to find your balance once more.”

“As you say,” d’Artagnan replied distractedly. “Let us have our drink and be done with this place. Something here does not feel right.”

Athos quirked his eyebrow at him, surprised by his words. It was not like his companion to express such misgivings, especially in so innocuous a setting. It seemed the younger man was more troubled than he let on. Deciding to err on the side of caution for once, Athos signaled the serving girl. When she came over he ordered two bottles of wine, telling her they would take them with them. 

When the girl returned with their wine, Athos took one bottle and handed the other to d’Artagnan. As they turned to leave, Athos saw the other man suddenly freeze. When he turned to ask if he was alright, the look of absolute fury on d’Artagnan’s face nearly made him recoil. 

“Bastard!” d’Artagnan snarled as he attempted to lunge past Athos, the sight of Aramis’ tormentor laughing as he made his way inside sending him into a red rage.

Athos reacted on instinct, grabbing d’Artagnan as he tried to move past him and spinning him around. He winced when he slammed him into the tavern wall, not intending to be so rough with him. From the looks of him, d’Artagnan hadn’t even felt it as he continued to struggle in Athos’ grip, snarling and spitting like an angry cat.

“Stop this right now!” Athos growled in his ear as he used his body to hold the younger man in place. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“It’s him,” d’Artagnan spat as he seethed in Athos’ hold, still attempting to wriggle out of it and get to his quarry.

“Who?” Athos demanded roughly, slamming d’Artagnan back against the wall as he did so.

“Pierre,” d’Artagnan replied angrily, his voice low and deadly in a way Athos had never heard before. “The bastard that hurt Aramis.”

Athos cast a glance over his shoulder and saw the man d’Artagnan must have been talking about. He was tall, with broad shoulders and powerful arms. And he was looking at the pair of them with unveiled interest. Athos needed to get them out of there and quickly. If this man became aware of them, if he told others, then there would be no way for them to avenge Aramis, not without answering for it.

“Listen to me,” Athos said quickly, his lips right next to d’Artagnan’s ear. “I am going to let you go and we are going to leave here. You will not say anything to this man. You will not so much as look in his direction. Am I clear?”

“Athos…” d’Artagnan began to argue, unable to believe that Athos meant for them to simply walk away and leave this monster to do as he would.

“Am. I. Clear?” Athos repeated, his voice like ice.

“Yes, Sir,” d’Artagnan spat angrily. He felt Athos’ grip on him tighten a fraction then the man stepped back and he had to catch himself to keep from stumbling. 

Holding d’Artagnan’s arm in a grip hard enough to bruise, Athos marched them through the tavern and out the door. He could feel everyone’s eyes upon them and could only hope they had not drawn too much attention to themselves. 

Pierre watched the little drama play out in the back of the pub. At first, he had thought it merely a case of too much drink. Then he had gotten a good look at the young man being pressed into the wall, recognizing him in an instant. He had started to move forward, to intercede on his behalf, then he had spied the pauldron on his shoulder and the pieces began to fall into place. It seemed dear Aramis had finally told somebody about him. That was… interesting. 

As the older man all but marched his charge out of the place, Pierre watched as surreptitiously as he could. It would not do to have them know he was on to them, not before he knew exactly what his young friend was up to. Still, he managed to get a good look at the man leading Charles away. Perhaps later he would ask around and see if he could get a name to go with the face. 

Knowing he could do no more for the time being, he ordered a drink. As he waited for it, he thought about Aramis. It had been a long time indeed since they had last paid him a visit. He had thought, after the last time, that the man would not need another reminder of just who he was dealing with. Obviously, he was mistaken. Marisol would be thrilled when she found out. She had grown quite waspish of late. Playing with her favorite Musketeer again would do wonders for her mood.

Once outside the inn, Athos headed straight for their home. He did not relinquish his hold on d’Artagnan. If anything, his grip tightened even more as if he did not trust him not to turn back and confront the man then and there. As he all but drug d’Artagnan through the streets, Athos felt his anger rising. He could not believe d’Artagnan had behaved so rashly. Had they not discussed this? Had they not all agreed that they would wait, would act together as a family to safeguard Aramis? 

“Let go,” d’Artagnan said as he tried to jerk his arm from Athos’ steely grip.

“Quiet,” Athos said through clenched teeth. It was taking everything within him to keep from turning back himself to confront the man that had tormented Aramis. Unlike d'Artagnan, however, he was not so foolish. He knew that to attempt to avenge Aramis and fail would be worse than doing nothing at all.

D’Artagnan’s eyes flashed dangerously but he did as Athos ordered. He knew better than to try to settle this out in the open where anyone could see. No, this needed to be handled in private. Then Athos could explain to him why he would allow that animal to still walk free.

As soon as they reached their home, Athos pulled d'Artagnan through the door. He turned and bolted it, ensuring their conversation would not be interrupted. Turning back, he took in the burning rage in his lover's eyes and almost drew back. 

"Why?" D'Artagnan spat once they were safely alone. He could not get it out of his head. Why would Athos stop him? Why would he allow that fiend to go unpunished? He knew how much Aramis still suffered from all they had done to him. Why did he not care?

"If you think I do not want vengeance as badly as you then you are blind," Athos said. He ran a weary hand through his hair and over his face as he struggled to find the words to explain his actions to the angry man before him.

"Yet you let him walk free," d'Artagnan accused, his voice growing louder as he spoke. "You turn your head and pretend not to see rather than act. Why?"

"What would you have me do, d'Artagnan?" Athos asked growing exasperated with the boy. "We were in a tavern. There were witnesses. If we are to do this then we must be circumspect about it. We cannot simply rush in and kill the man in cold blood."

D'Artagnan stared at Athos as the man's words sank in. He saw the plea in Athos' eyes, the man silently begging him to understand, and felt ashamed of his outburst. He should have known better than to question Athos' love of Aramis, even in his mind. Athos loved Aramis dearly and would never allow his tormentor to walk free if he could do something about it.

"I'm sorry," d'Artagnan said, looking away in shame. "I did not think. I only saw him and could not stand the thought of it."

"I know," Athos said as he stepped forward and pulled his lover into his arms. He was relieved when d'Artagnan came willingly. He knew how protective he was of Aramis, of all of them really. For him to stand by and do nothing went against everything he was. Still, Aramis would never forgive them if they ended up getting caught. 

"Forgive me, brother," d'Artagnan said as he wrapped his arms around Athos' waist, returning the man's embrace. He had acted poorly and he knew it. His brothers deserved better than this from him.

"Do not apologize for attempting to protect him," Athos told him, tightening his arms around him. "But you will not do so at your own expense. We will make him pay. We will make both of them pay for all that they have done to him. But you will not be sacrificed in the process." 

&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M

Aramis sighed as he laid back against Porthos on the divan. It felt strange for it to be just the two of them at the manor. While they normally worked together as a group, they had each been paired one with the other on various assignments by Treville. But here, in their home, it felt off. Aramis supposed it was simply that it was the first time he was here without the others. Even when d'Artagnan had taken his short trip to Paris, Athos and Porthos had both been here with him and had kept him from missing their fourth too badly. 

"What's on your mind, love?" Porthos asked after a while. He could always tell when Aramis was thinking about something deeply. He got still, like he did when he was lining someone up in his sights. And while he wasn't overly tense, he was still thinking hard about something.

Aramis sighed then turned his head up to smile at Porthos. His lover knew him so well. Porthos was truly a blessing to him, and Aramis knew without a doubt that he would love this man for the rest of his life. Porthos accepted him for the man that he was, past and all. He knew how rare of a gift that was and vowed to never take it, or him, for granted.

"I love you," Aramis said at last. 

"I love you, too," Porthos grinned back at him. "You want to talk about it or you want me to let you be?"

"It is nothing really," Aramis said as he settled back, glad for his lover's strong presence behind him. "I was merely thinking about the encounter the four of us shared."

"Ah," Porthos said non-commitally. He had known that there was more to that than what Aramis had first told him. He had genuinely been distressed about his perceived failure to look after the Whelp, but there was something else troubling him. 

"I know what that sound means from you," Aramis groused good-naturedly.

"Oh yeah?"

"Yes," Aramis replied. "It means you already knew and were simply waiting for me to come to you with it." Aramis thought he should probably feel at least a little annoyed but he didn't. It was one of the benefits of Porthos knowing him so well. He knew when he was troubled and he also knew when he was not yet ready to talk about it. Luckily for them both, Porthos could be a very patient man when he need be.

"So what's been bothering you about it?" Porthos asked, not wanting the conversation to get side-tracked. If Aramis was still thinking about it after this long then there was something about it that he was truly struggling with. 

"Athos," Aramis said bluntly. Yet another benefit of their relationship, the ability to simply speak their minds without worry of the other taking offense. 

"This about the Whelp or about you?"

"Me," Aramis admitted. "I... I had not expected him to act like that. It...it left me..."

"Easy, love," Porthos said as he hugged the man tightly. "Take your time. I'm not going anywhere and you know I'll listen to whatever it is you need to say."

Aramis took a deep breath and felt himself relax. This was Porthos and they were, thankfully, all alone here. He could speak his mind as bluntly as he needed to without worry of the hurt it might cause. Taking another minute to order his thoughts he tried again to explain himself. 

"He did not frighten me," he began. "Not truly. But he did make me uneasy. He...well, he intimidated me, I suppose."

"I think he was trying to be intimidating, love," Porthos offered carefully.

Aramis nodded. Porthos was right but, at the same time, he was not. Before when they played, no matter who was in charge, that person was not trying to genuinely intimidate him. And no matter how cowed he might have _acted_ , it had only been an act. This time, however, the feelings had been real.

"I know," Aramis said softly. "But this time it wasn't a game. I was not pretending to be intimidated by him. I truly felt... I could not even tell who I was to obey more, him or my Master."

"Oh," Porthos said, finally understanding the depth of Aramis' dismay. He had known he was struggling a bit but had not realized it was to such a degree. Had he known, he would have stopped things then and there. "I'm sorry. I should have..."

"Stop that," Aramis admonished gently. "You had no way to know. I didn't even know at first so how could you?"

"Did we push you too far?" Porthos asked, suddenly worried.

"No," Aramis shook his head adamantly. "No. You did nothing of the sort, not either of you. But..."

"But?" Porthos held his breath as he waited for Aramis to answer him. He had no idea the whole encounter had been so hard on the man and wished now he had paid better attention.

"But I am not at all sure I am ready to experience such a thing again," Aramis admitted. 

"Then you won't," Porthos told him, relieved to hear that most of Aramis' worry was about his ability to meet this need in the future. "Athos will understand, love. So will the Whelp. All you have to do is tell them."

"I know. Of course, I know that. But telling them no, it is not something I am particularly good at."

"I can talk to them for you," Porthos offered. "Or we could do it together, if you'd rather. Whatever way's easiest on you. But I'm telling you now, you don't have anything to worry about. Neither of them want to push you into doing something you don't want or that makes you uneasy. They love you too much to ever do anything to hurt you."

"Wise as ever, my love," Aramis said as he squeezed Porthos' arm. "I will attempt to talk to him but I may call upon you for assistance."

"You can call upon me for anything at any time," Porthos told him. He felt some of the tension leave Aramis at his words though not all of it. He considered for a moment then grinned widely. Maybe what his lover needed was something to take his mind off things. 

Aramis could tell the exact moment when the mood changed. The air in the room grew charged with the weight of their feelings and he pressed back against his lover the tiniest bit harder as he let them overtake him. This was what he needed. Porthos never failed to ground him, giving him a shoulder to lean on and shoring him up where he needed it most. Right now, Aramis thought he might need Porthos very much indeed.

"What ya thinking about now?" Porthos said huskily, his breath tickling Aramis' ear as he dipped his head down next to his.

Aramis chuckled, a gentle wave of lust washing over him at the sound and feel of this man. "I am thinking, dear Porthos, about you taking me to bed and ravishing me utterly. How does that sound to you?"

"Sounds like a plan," Porthos replied, his voice deepening as desire surged within him. He pulled Aramis around in his lap and got a hand under his knees. Before the man could protest, he stood, taking Aramis with him as he did. 

Aramis squeaked when Porthos spun him around in his arms and stood up. He tightened his grip around the man's neck, laughing as he carried them to their room. He felt giddy suddenly, as if all of his cares had been cast off. He shrieked with delight when Porthos tossed him onto their bed, feeling light and free in a way he had not in ages.

He started in on cuffs of his shirt, unlacing them and quickly drawing the shirt over his head. He caught Porthos' eye and winked at him, earning him a laugh as Porthos began shedding his own clothes. Aramis was the first to get out of his clothes, scooting back on the bed to make room for his lover. In no time, Porthos joined him, pulling Aramis on top of him as he did so. He laughed again as Porthos pulled him over top of him, but it quickly turned to a moan as his hardening cock brushed against Porthos' own. 

"Been a long time since I seen you smile this much," Porthos said as he gripped Aramis by the hips and ground them together. He moaned himself at the feel of his lover's body against him. It felt like it had been forever since it had been like this between them, carefree and fun.

"It feels like it has for me as well," Aramis agreed. "You always manage to make my heart feel light, though."

"Is there anything else I make you feel?" Porthos asked, leering playfully up at his lover.

Aramis barked out a laugh then stared down into Porthos' eyes. He could see the joy in them as well as the desire and it stoked the desire inside of him. "There are a great many things you make me feel, but I believe you are referring to something specific. Are you not?"

"Oh yes," Porthos answered. "I'd even call it pressing."

Aramis snorted that and pressed down the tiniest bit harder against Porthos. He was rewarded with a very heart-felt moan so he did it again. With an impish grin, he began to move his hips against his lover's, pleased with himself when he felt Porthos' cock fully harden between them. 

"Want you," Porthos groaned. 

"Then have me," Aramis told him. He saw the heat flare in Porthos' eyes at his words and leaned down to kiss him, taking his mouth slowly and thoroughly. There was none of their usual rush, though they were quite aroused. Both seemed content to take things slowly, to let them play out as they would between them. It was reminiscent of the first few times they had lain together with both of them happy to simply be with one another.

When Aramis finally broke their kiss, they were both short of breath. He rested his head against Porthos' and closed his eyes. An idea came to him and his smiled, opening his eyes and raising his head so he could look at the other man, taking in his lover's slightly flushed cheeks and wide eyes as well as the playful gleam in them.

"Would you like me to ride you again?" Aramis purred as seductively as he could while on the verge of laughing. He did not understand why he felt so light-hearted, so free and simply....joyous, and for once he did not care. All he cared about was Porthos.

Porthos groaned again at Aramis' words, desire lancing through him. He remembered the last time his lover had ridden him. It had been an almost overwhelming experience for the both of them. From the look on his lover's face, however, he was anxious to experience that again.

"I shall take that as a yes," Aramis quipped. He reached across Porthos to the bedside table and pulled out the oil they kept there. He rose up on his knees over Porthos and slicked his fingers. He took in Porthos' dark eyes watching him with unabashed interest and felt his cock jerk.

"Gonna get yourself ready for me?" Porthos asked never taking his eyes off his lover.

Aramis merely smirked then reached behind himself with his oil slick fingers. He used his fingers to spread the oil up and down is cleft then pressed one long finger against his hole. "Keep your eyes on me," he instructed as he threw back his head and slowly pushed his finger inside himself to the hilt.

Porthos bit his lip as he watched Aramis preparing himself. He could not see exactly what those long fingers of his were doing, but the look on his face told the story quite well. It made his bollocks throb to think of those long fingers pressing up inside of the man, readying his body for him. It took all of his self-control not to surge up and press Aramis into the bed so he could take over himself. 

Sooner than he would have thought, Aramis pulled his fingers free. He took up the oil again and slicked Porthos' straining erection. He squeezed gently when Porthos thrust up helplessly. "Anxious, are we?" He grinned playfully before taking pity on his lover.

Maneuvering himself into position, Aramis held Porthos' cock in place then began to ease back, slowly impaling himself. He gasped at the feel of that thick column of flesh breeching him. It always stole his breath away and he hoped that never changed. He dimly registered Porthos' own strangled moan as he fought to keep still and not simply slam Aramis down on his cock. 

"So fucking big," Aramis moaned as he continued to sink down on Porthos. He let go of his cock and brought both hands around to rest against his chest, bracing himself as he panted through the stretch of it. When he was at last fully seated, he paused again, giving his body a chance to adjust. He could feel himself clenching down on Porthos as his body struggled to take him in. One look at his lover's face showed that he was feeling the strain equally so.

With one hand, he gently caressed Porthos' face, earning him a startled gasp at the gesture. Porthos' eyes locked on his then and he smiled softly. "I do so love you," Aramis told him. "You are the very heart and soul of me."

"Me...me as well," Porthos managed, his voice strangled by emotion. 

Aramis leaned down and kissed him, slow and deep as he had earlier. Pushing his tongue inside his lover's mouth, he tasted him everywhere he could, reveling in it, until he felt his body finally relax as Porthos moaned into their kiss. 

With a last kiss to Porthos' lips, he pulled back. Bracing his hands on his chest once more, he began to move his body up and down, riding his lover. He kept his eyes glued to Porthos' own and watched as they darkened even more. In no time, Porthos' hands had left the balled up sheets and come to rest on Aramis' hips, holding onto them and guiding him in his rhythm. 

"Oooh," Aramis moaned as he felt Porthos start to thrust upward, meeting him as he came down. It sent sparks of pleasure all through him and made his cock jerk against his belly. He tried to speed up, his own body wanting release, but Porthos' hands about his hips prevented him. 

"Now, now," Porthos grinned up at him. "Wouldn't want things to end too soon, would you?" 

"You are a fiend," Aramis groaned as he kept up the pace his lover dictated. His cock was starting to leak but he knew better than to try to touch himself. Porthos, it seemed, wanted to drag this out. There would be no release for either of them until he allowed it.

"Yeah, but you like me that way," Porthos shot back. He thrust up hard then, pulling a startled moan from his lover as his cock brushed against his prostate. He could see the way Aramis was leaking all over his belly, some of it running down the sides of his cock. He knew his lover wanted to spend, but he wasn't done playing yet.

"Please," Aramis begged, knowing how much it turned his lover on to hear him beg for his touch. Usually that alone was enough to incite Porthos to fucking him hard and fast. Today, however, it seemed his lover wanted him to work for it. "Please, Porthos. Let me spend, love."

"Not yet," Porthos told him. He wanted to see his lover a begging, broken mess first. Only then would he make him spend. He tightened his grip on Aramis' hips, dictating the pace completely now. 

Aramis moaned at the feel of those big hands gripping him hard, using him as he wanted, bending him to his will. He could feel Porthos changing the angle he was moving at so that every pass brushed that bundle of nerves inside of him against Porthos' cock. He started panting in earnest, unable to help himself. He was barely managing not to collapse against Porthos as the man all but moved him up and down. His arms began to shake as his body was overwhelmed with sensation from the feel of that thick cock moving inside of him to the fat head of his prick brushing over him _right there_ and sending jolt after jolt of pleasure zinging along his nerves.

Porthos knew Aramis was getting close to the limit of his endurance. His lover had dropped his head, no longer able to keep looking at him. He could feel the man's arms shaking as he braced himself against his chest. His hot channel clenched down on him with every move Aramis made causing Porthos' own bollocks to draw up. 

He considered forcing Aramis to keep this pace just to see how long it would take him to spend like this. It felt good, incredible even, but it was not enough to make him spend. He had a feeling Aramis would collapse before Porthos managed to spend like this. While that was a very tempting idea, it wasn't what he wanted today. Still, there was no reason he couldn't tease his lover with the thought of it.

"Aramis," he moaned. "I could fuck you like this all day and never spend."

Aramis bit off a sob at Porthos' words. He knew the man was being truthful. This was enough to keep him on edge but nothing more than that. He felt his whole body clamp down hard at the thought of Porthos fucking him like this for hours. He was already at the brink of truly begging for release and did not know how much more of this he could take without losing his composure entirely.

"Should I do that, lover?" Porthos teased. "Should I fuck you like this, make you ride up and down on my cock just like this, until you can't even move any more?"

"Please," Aramis began to beg, squeezing his eyes shut. "Please, Porthos, It's too much. I can't take any more."

"What's too much?" Porthos asked. "Tell me and maybe I'll take pity on you."

"Everything," Aramis sobbed. "Every move sends lightning along my veins. My entire body is on fire."

"Beg me," Porthos demanded, lust slamming through him at Aramis' words "Beg me to fuck you."

"Please," Aramis begged, his voice thick with arousal. "Please fuck me, fuck me hard. Oh please, Porthos. I need you to fuck me so badly..."

Before Aramis even finished speaking, Porthos tightened his hold on him and rolled them over. Aramis' eyes shot open and he gasped at suddenly finding himself on his back with Porthos looming over him. He started to say something but Porthos pulled back and snapped his hips forward, stealing the breath from him. After that, it was all Aramis could do to hold on as Porthos rode him.

Looking down into Aramis' lust-blown eyes, Porthos was lost. He pulled back only to slam forward hard, burying his prick to the hilt and making Aramis breath stutter. Hooking his hand behind his knees, he pulled Aramis' legs up, pushing them back toward his chest, exposing him. With Aramis literally pinned in place, Porthos drew back and thrust forward hard, burying his cock deeper still. 

Both men moaned when Porthos thrust into him, his cock going even deeper. Aramis' body tried to clamp down once more, not expecting Porthos to go so deep. It felt like Porthos was battering his way into the core of him and Aramis was powerless to stop him. Thrashing his head back and forth, he moaned and gasped as Porthos set about fucking him.

"You...you wa-wanted me to fuck you," Porthos panted as he snapped his hips forward. He changed his angle slightly and the next thrust brushed over Aramis' swollen prostate, causing him to cry out loudly. Porthos only grinned wider and continued to fuck him, his cock ramming into the over-sensitive bundle of nerves again and again.

All at once, Aramis felt himself tottering on the brink. He opened his mouth to warn his lover but Porthos thrust forward hard and the words turned into a scream as his entire body seized and he began to spend. Aramis cried out again when Porthos did not even slow but kept fucking into him hard and fast as his seed pulsed out of his cock to stripe his belly and chest.

Porthos had been taken by surprise when Aramis began to spend without warning but he did not allow himself to so much as slow. He kept fucking his lover, straining to find his own release as Aramis moaned and writhed beneath him, his cock spilling more and more as he did so.

Aramis felt like he would never stop spending. Every thrust of Porthos' cock caused his own to jerk. His seed covered his body, some even striking his neck and chin from the force of his release. He felt hot and cold all over, his body over-sensitive as Porthos continued to pound into his helpless body. 

Porthos could feel his own release approaching as he continued to pummel his lover with his cock. He could feel how swollen the little gland inside of Aramis was with each pass of his cock. He looked down then, taking in the sight of his lover, spent and pliant beneath him, covered in his own seed and it was enough to finally push him over the edge. With a roar, Porthos slammed forward and stilled as his cock swelled even more then began to pulse, filling his lover's aching body with his seed.

&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M

"Well, that went better than I had expected," Constance said as she and Treville sat down to dinner.

"Yes," the Captain agreed. "From what Athos had said, I had expected a bit more resistance from d'Artagnan."

"I hurt him," Constance said softly. "Worse still, he feels as if I betrayed him. And betrayal is not something d'Artagnan forgives easily. If it had only been him that I hurt with my actions, he might have been able to get past it, but I hurt someone he swore to protect."

"He will get past it," Treville told her, setting down his cup to cover her hand with his. He gave it a gentle squeeze, letting her know with his touch that she was not alone in this. "He will not let his own hurt cause his family further pain."

"Thank you," she said, looking across at him. She took in the kindness in his eyes and smiled at him. She knew, no matter what, that he would stand by her. That knowledge alone was enough to bolster her. They would get through this and he had promised that they would all be at the wedding, not just the others but d'Artagnan, too.

"Constance, I would move Heaven and earth for you," Treville told her. "And so would those four men."

&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M

La Oscuridad smiled in the confines of its prison. It had known that the man and woman could be used against the Seminarian. It had not dreamed that they could be effective in so many ways. If just the sight of them was enough to incite the one called Master to such extremes, it could only wonder how far he could be pushed. Remembering the fear Bathory had instilled in them simply by manipulating their dreams, it wondered if such a tactic could be successful a second time.

D'Artagnan was restless in his sleep. He found himself cold and seeking Athos' warmth then overly hot and shoving away from him. The blankets felt constricting and he kicked them off only to start shivering and scramble to pull them over himself once more. He could feel someone beside him, even in his sleep. At times, he took comfort from the warm, solid presence beside him. Other times, he shied from it, afraid of getting too near and waking something he shouldn't.

As he slept on, his mind relived his earlier confrontation with Athos. This time, though, things turned much darker as his fears and insecurity twisted his memory of events. This time, when they reached the house, Athos shoved him inside angrily, the force nearly sending him sprawling over the kitchen table. Rage flooded him at being treated with so little regard and when Athos hard turned back from locking the door, he had been waiting.

_Athos barely had time to register the fist coming toward him before the force of it snapped his head to the side. Spitting blood, he glared at his lover. One look at d'Artagnan's smug countenance was all it took and the thin hold Athos had on his control broke._

_Lunging across the table, Athos grabbed the younger man by the arm. He used his momentum to sling him against the far wall. The sound of his body striking the doorframe made Athos smirk as he rounded the table toward him._

_The impact with the doorframe stunned d'Artagnan for a moment. It was not long but it was long enough. Shaking his head to clear it, he realized Athos was standing in front of him a few seconds too late. Before he could even move, the man grabbed him by the arm again, this time fisting his other hand in his hair and began to drag him into the sitting room. D'Artagnan cried out at the harsh treatment and tried to jerk free but Athos only tightened his grip, yanking on his hair so hard he thought he might pull it from his scalp._

_"You want to be taught your place, boy?" Athos snarled in his ear as he drug him into the center of the room. "Well I'm more than happy to show it to you."_

_With that, Athos spun him around and threw him down on the small couch. d'Artagnan tried to move, to get up, get away, something but Athos was on him too quick. Gripping him by the hair again, Athos jerked his head back as he scrabbled at his weapons belt with his free hand. All too soon, d'Artagnan found himself completely disarmed with Athos starting in on his doublet._

_"Athos, stop," d'Artagnan gasped as he struggled in the man's iron grip. He had no idea how things had spiraled so out of control but he knew he needed to stop this before one of them went too far._

_"You need to be taught a lesson," Athos spat as he tore the doublet off d'Artagnan and threw it aside._

_"What the hell do you think you're doing?" D'Artagnan roared as he redoubled his efforts to get away._

_"You've done this to Aramis often enough, you should be able to guess," Athos said snidely. He pulled them both down into the floor, shoving d'Artagnan face down across the couch. He let go of his hair to jerk his arm up behind his back, effectively pinning him in place. With one hand now free, he reached beneath him and began working at the fastenings of his breeches. In no time at all, he was shoving them and his smalls both down around his knees, leaving d'Artagnan's backside bared._

_D'Artagnan tried to move, to thrash, to stop Athos from baring him, but the way the man forced his arm up held him trapped. "Stop this," he demanded as the first inklings of fear made themselves known. "Let me go, you bastard!"_

_"I see you need a lesson in manners as well," Athos said, taking a moment to admire the sight of his lover bared to him. Seeing d'Artagnan this way, held fast and helpless, was stoking the fire inside of Athos. Unable to wait any longer, Athos brought his hand up and back, holding it poised above the younger man. Without warning, he brought his hand down hard and fast, his palm connecting with the other man's backside with a resounding crack._

_Caught off guard, d'Artagnan had not expected the sudden fiery pain that blossomed underneath Athos' hand. He could not hold in a startled yelp and flushed in shame at crying out so. He could not believe that Athos was doing this, that he was actually taking a hand to him in this manner. He was so shocked by it that he did not even try to fight back, his resistance gone in the face of his lover's discipline._

_Athos had felt the sting from the blow he landed all the way up his arm. He watched as d'Artagnan's pale ass reddened and felt satisfaction bloom in his chest. Drawing back his arm once more, he paused for a heartbeat then delivered another blow just as hard as the first. After that, he did not hesitate, instead raining down blow after blow on d'Artagnan's vulnerable flesh. As he continued his onslaught, he began to feel disconnected from what was happening, as if he were merely watching what was going on. He noted with detachment the way d'Artagnan's backside turned first pink then red then crimson. He could hear the boy sucking in each gasping breath only for it to leave him in a rush under Athos' unrelenting hand._

_"Stop," d'Artagnan begged as tears ran down his face. His ass felt like it was on fire as Athos beat him without pause. He felt on the verge of passing out, as if he could not get enough air, his tears only making it worse. "Please, stop. I'm sorry, Sir. I'm sorry. Please, st-st-stop."_

D'Artagnan came awake with a shout as he sat up in the bed he shared with Athos. His heart hammered in his chest as the last vestiges of the dream began to fade. He could actually feel the phantom sting of Athos' hand against his backside and winced. When his panic abated enough to realize he was not alone, his eyes widened and he all but leapt from the bed.

Athos, too, came awake with a shout, his nightmare seeming to follow him into the waking world. The hand he had used to beat d'Artagnan with ached, causing his gorge to rise at the memory. When he heard the other man suck in a breath and scramble from the bed, he felt his heart clench. He cast his eyes in his direction, but had to look away as the fear he saw there threatened to undo him.

D'Artagnan opened his mouth to speak then closed it, the words he wanted to say stuck in his throat. As he stood there, reality set in and he realized that it had only been a dream. Athos had not really held him down and beat him. Athos had not really made him _beg_. 

Athos continued to stare down at his lap, shaking. He did not dare risk looking at his lover again for fear of what he might see there. He felt sick inside, as if a blackness had taken over him and begun to rot him from the inside out. Even as common sense told him that it had only been a dream, he still struggled, for the fear he had seen in the other man's eyes had been no dream.

"A-A-Ath-os," d'Artagnan finally managed though he was unable to keep the quaver from his voice. "Are you...are you..."

"Please," Athos begged brokenly as he heard d'Artagnan struggle to even form words. To think that he would ever cause this man to fear him tore at his soul. 

The sound of Athos' pain was enough to finally snap d'Artagnan all of the way out of the dream. He started to move toward Athos and saw the man flinch. Slowing, he held his hands up and carefully approached the bed once more. 

"It's okay," d'Artagnan whispered as he climbed onto the bed again. His throat was raspy as if he had been screaming. A fragment of the dream flittered through his mind but he forced it away. Eyes locked on Athos, he continued to move forward until he was beside him.

Athos didn't move when he felt the bed dip. He stayed as still as he could, though his body still shook as d'Artagnan inched closer to him. Only when the man was right next to him did he risk another glance at his face. His eyes still held fear, but this time it was fear for Athos rather than of him. Relief so great it nearly made him sick washed over him and he could not bite back his moan.

"Athos," d'Artagnan whispered again as he carefully drew the other man into his arms. He could still feel the telltale panic from the dream but seeing Athos in pain was enough for him to push past it. "It's okay. It was just a dream, that's all. Just a dream."

"I'm so sorry," Athos gasped as he melted into his lover's arms. He started to shake even harder as he felt d'Artagnan holding him. The thought of hurting this time, of doing something like that to him, disgusted him. In his dream, he was every bit the brute his wife always made him out to be and he would rather die than ever become such a thing.

Mid-day found d'Artagnan still somewhat subdued. He and Athos had returned to bed wrapped around one another. Both men had still been uneasy after their respective nightmares and wanted each other close. For his part, d'Artagnan felt like he still owed Athos an apology for his behavior at the tavern. It reflected poorly on him and even more so on his mentor. He knew Athos would likely disagree however so he held his tongue, not wanting to upset the man all over again. 

As they at last prepared to depart, d'Artagnan could not help but regret the way their trip had turned out. He had hoped for some time alone with Athos. While he had gotten that, it had not been nearly as...intimate...as he had hoped. He did not blame, Athos, though. He could understand the man not really being in the mood after his behavior at the tavern. Besides that, they were both still reeling from the nightmares they had each had. D'Artagnan did not know what it was that Athos had dreamed of but he had a feeling it had something to do with their near run-in with Pierre. He made a note to ask the man about it, or perhaps get Aramis to do so. He did not like the idea of Athos being afraid because of him but he knew better than to try to broach the subject now.

Like d'Artagnan, Athos was worried about his lover. He had no idea what the younger man's nightmare had been about and, while he wanted to ask, he did not think it wise to do so here. He would wait until they were safely home with their brothers. He knew that even if he did not want to talk about it with him, he would likely be willing to confide in Aramis. That was good enough for him. For now, his main concern was putting some distance between themselves and Pierre Champney. He could understand their youngest's burning desire for revenge. He felt the same and did not trust his own self-control should an opportunity present itself. It would be much better for all of their sakes to return to the maison. There, perhaps the four of them could come up with a way to ensure that these people were no longer any danger to Aramis.

Heading out of the city, Athos kept a careful eye on the younger man. He had not missed the barely veiled worry in his eyes, as well as no small amount of disappointment, but there was nothing to be done for it now. He, too, had hoped for some time for the two of them but it simply was not to be. Perhaps when they were home they would manage to make some time for themselves, though in truth Athos was not sure he altogether trusted himself alone with his lover. Not after that dream. He would worry about that later, though. They had much more pressing things to worry about right now.

"I am sorry," d'Artagnan said as they rode along side by side. He had not meant to say anything but he simply could not hold his tongue any longer. "I did not mean for my actions to spoil our trip."

"Your actions did not spoil anything," Athos told him. He wanted to say more but stopped himself. Once they were safely home they could talk this out if d'Artagnan was of a mind to. Until then, it was best to let it be. "And we accomplished what we set out to do. That is the important part."

D'Artagnan opened his mouth and closed it again. He knew Athos was disappointed with him. How could he not be after the way he had acted? He could feel it like a physical pain. While he knew his lover would not hold his lapse against him, it still shamed him to know he had behaved so.


	9. Chapter 9

Luckily for the pair, the trip home was uneventful as both men paid more attention to the other than to their surroundings. D'Artagnan could not seem to get his nightmare out of his mind. He kept replaying parts of it as they rode, his emotions ranging from embarrassed to afraid to dejected and back again. He did not know why he could not seem to banish such thoughts. He knew Athos would never hurt him, would never treat him so heartlessly, but his mind refused to let go of it.

Athos was having much the same problem. He could not stop thinking about the way d'Artagnan's flesh had felt beneath his hand as he had struck him. Just the thought of it was enough to make him feel as though he might be sick. When he recalled the sound of his lover's voice as he had begged him for mercy, it was all he could do to stay in the saddle.

Knowing he would get no peace until he settled things between them, at least somewhat, d'Artagnan reined his horse to a stop. "Athos," he called, his voice sounding much steadier than he felt.

"What is it?" Athos asked as he stopped and turned back toward d'Artagnan. He tasted bile in the back of his throat at the apprehensive look on the other man's face, the sound of his hand striking unprotected flesh echoing in his ears.

"We need to talk," d'Artagnan said, wincing at how foreboding those words sounded.

For one brief second, Athos considered turning back around and spurring his horse on. He did not want to talk. He did not want to discuss whatever he had done to put that look in his lover's eyes. He did not want to discuss that at all. His lover, however, did and Athos was not so dishonorable a man as to make him chase him down to do so.

"As you wish," he managed, though his words felt as though his throat was filled with broken glass.

D'Artagnan nodded and nudged his horse forward so that he was right next to Athos. He failed to notice the sudden trepidation that had overcome the other man, too lost in his own worries and fears for the moment. Once he was next to him, he stopped and took a steadying breath then met his lover's eyes.

"I am sorry," d'Artagnan apologized sincerely. "My behavior was...appalling. I have no excuse. I let my anger cloud my judgment and put us both at risk. I do not blame you for being disappointed in me..."

"Disappointed in _you_?" Athos gasped, unable to listen any more. "D'Artagnan... I am not disappointed in you. You lost your temper, yes. But had it been I that spied the man first I cannot say that I would not have reacted the very same way. I..."

"Athos?" D'Artagnan queried when the man trailed off as if at a loss as to how to express himself. He was relieved beyond measure that Athos was not disappointed in him, but he could see that something was still amiss.

"And now it is my turn to apologize," Athos said, looking away. "I do not know what I did to make you look at me with...with fear in your eyes. Whatever it was, please know that it was never my intent."

"You didn't do anything wrong," d'Artagnan told him firmly.

"Then why are you so apprehensive?" Athos asked. "Why did you awake with fear in your eyes?"

d'Artagnan looked away, ashamed yet again of his actions. He could not tell Athos he'd had a nightmare and it frightened him. He would sound like a child. Worse still, the man might want to know what it was he dreamt of. D'Artagnan had no intention of telling him that. He would certainly find some way to take the blame for it when it was simply d'Artagnan's own mind punishing him for his abhorrent behavior.

"And again I cause you to look away from me," Athos pointed out. "Has my conduct been so odious that you cannot even bear to look at me now?"

"Athos, no!" D'Artagnan said, turning back toward him at once. He leaned over and grabbed Athos by the arm, squeezing it. "You have done nothing. It is my own behavior that shames me and makes me unable to meet your eyes."

"You have done nothing to be ashamed of," Athos told him again. "If it would not have gotten you the noose, I would have gladly let you kill that bastard, but Aramis would never forgive me if I let anything happen to you. Especially because of this."

"I know that," d'Artagnan told him. "I do. I know you only stopped me to protect me. I know you love him as fiercely as I do and that you would do anything to protect him. Forgive me, brother. I did not mean to let my temper get the better of me."

Athos nodded and covered d'Artagnan's hand on his arm with his own. "There is nothing to forgive," he said. "You acted without thought, no more than that. I hope... I hope you can forgive me for being so harsh with you. I did not mean to make your wary of me."

"You have not," d'Artagnan insisted. "I think, perhaps, we were both still reeling from earlier events. Between my worry about speaking with Constance and the run-in at the tavern, we were both overly tense. If our dreams left us...unsettled...it is only to be expected. You say I have done no wrong in your eyes save lose my temper and I believe you. I hope you believe me when I say you are equally blameless."

Both of their hearts somewhat lighter, the pair turned their horses back toward home once more. They still had doubts. d'Artagnan still felt he had erred and Athos still worried for the flashes of fear he had seen in his lover's eyes. Still, both knew they would feel better, feel steadier, once they were home and reunited with their brothers.

The sun was sinking low on the horizon when the pair arrived back at the estate. They couldn't help but grin when they caught sight of their brothers sitting on the porch as though watching for their return. Considering how quickly Aramis shot to his feet when they rode into sight, Athos realized that was likely exactly what they had been doing.

"It seems we were missed as well," Athos said as he dismounted. He started to walk both their horses to the barn and found himself joined by Porthos as Aramis practically pulled d'Artagnan into the house. He had a moment to wonder if something had happened then Porthos' big hand was clasping his shoulder warmly.

"He's fine," he said as if reading Athos' mind. "Just got a little worried when the day started to get late. He remembered what happened the last time the Whelp was late returning from Paris."

"Ah," Athos said, understanding. "Did he not think me up to the task of minding him?"

Porthos laughed and shook his head. "You know how the boy is. If he gets it in his head to get into trouble, the three of us together wouldn't be enough to keep him out of it."

"You have no idea how right you are, my friend," Athos said.

Porthos frowned, something in his brother's words telling him there was more to that than what he was saying. He waited until they were safely in the barn and therefore guaranteed some degree of privacy before putting a hand on his arm, stopping him.

"Let us at least see to the horses first," Athos said, letting Porthos know that he would tell him but that he needed a moment or two to gather his thoughts.

Once the horses were seen to, the men settled in the back stall. It was the one d'Artagnan normally used when working and they had long since stopped putting any of the horses in it. Now, it held two hay bales and a low stool as well as their various soaps and oils for their leathers.

Taking Athos by the arm, Porthos sat him down on the one of the bales of hay before sitting down on the other one. "Now, tell me what happened," he said.

"We had a run-in with Pierre Champney," Athos said.

"Champney? Wait, isn't that..."

"Yes," Athos said in disgust.

"What happened?" Porthos all but growled, his hands balling into fists at the very thought of that animal.

"It was after his talk with Constance," Athos began. "We went to a tavern for a drink before heading home. He came in as we were getting ready to leave. D'Artagnan saw him and, quite literally, saw red. Had I not stopped him, he would have likely killed the bastard then and there, tavern full of witnesses be damned."

"But you did, stop him that is?" Porthos asked. His anger had quickly morphed to sickening fear at the thought of their hot-headed Whelp losing control and killing a man in cold blood. Not that Champney didn't deserve it. He deserved to be tied to a horse and drug through the streets, but no vengeance was worth d'Artagnan's life.

"I did," Athos assured him. "Though I fear the consequences of my actions. I was... harsh with him. I did not mean to be but..."

"Athos, brother, he won't hold that against you," Porthos told him. "He never holds a grudge. He knew you were only trying to protect him."

"He awoke with fear in his eyes," Athos whispered, the memory of that morning still burning like acid. "He has not spoken about what he dreamt of, but I can only assume it was caused by my treatment of him."

"Have you talked to him about it?" Porthos asked. He could understand Athos' worries. If Aramis every looked upon him with true fear, even for a moment, it would likely end him. There were times, however, when he seriously considered locking his stubborn brothers in the smallest room possible and simply waiting outside the door. The fools would either figure it out or starve to death. Porthos was not at all sure which would happen first.

"I did. Briefly," Athos nodded. "On the trail home. He said there was no harm done, that we were both still disconcerted from the events of the trip. I fear he blames himself, feels his conduct was remiss in some way. I have assured him he was mistaken but you know our Whelp."

Porthos nodded, all too aware of their Whelp's tendencies to blame himself for damn near everything. He thought he could perhaps understand it, this time. He was only glad he had not been with the pair in Paris. Had he come across that man, he did not know if he would have been able to keep from killing him. One thing was for certain, though, Aramis was not going to be pleased when he found out.

"You know Aramis is not going to be happy," Porthos said, giving voice to his last thought.

"I am aware," Athos replied tiredly. "Yet to try to keep this from him would be wrong."

"Whelp'll probably tell him himself," Porthos chuckled.

"That would likely be for the best," Athos said. "Aramis can never stay upset with him for long and he will understand that his Master was only seeking to protect him."

Back in the manor, Aramis had led d'Artagnan to their room, knowing the others would not disturb them there unless it was urgent. He looked his lover up and down, relieved to see that he had made it back in one unbroken piece this time. He was about to say as much when their eyes met and he stopped. D'Artagnan looked troubled, guilty even, and Aramis felt dread uncoil inside of him at all that could herald.

Taking his hands, Aramis pulled him into his arms and held him, needing to feel him safe and whole before dealing with whatever was troubling him so. He held him until he felt d'Artagnan's arms wrap around him and the tenseness leave his slender frame. He pulled back then and kissed him on the forehead before leading him over to their bed.

"Tell me," Aramis said gently as they sat down together, side by side.

"It's not what you're thinking," d'Artagnan said, easily reading the worry in his lover's eyes. "Everything went fine with Constance. I promised we'd all be there for the wedding. She, uh, she wants you to give her away."

"She does?" Aramis gasped, stunned that even after what had happened she would still wish to grant him such a privilege.

"Very much so," d'Artagnan replied. "I told her you would have no objection. I hope I did not misspeak."

"No! No, not at all," Aramis said quickly. "I would be honored to. Assuming you have no qualms about it, of course."

"No, love," d'Artagnan smiled at him. "Even if Constance and I were still at odds, I would never deny either of you this."

"Thank you," Aramis said. They sat together for a little longer, Aramis allowing d'Artagnan time to collect himself. Finally, he wrapped an arm around the other man's shoulders and squeezed gently. "Tell me. Whatever it is, tell me."

"After talking with Constance and Treville, Athos and I went to a tavern," d'Artagnan began slowly, his eyes firmly rooted to the floor between his feet. He could feel Aramis' arm around him but he still could not bring himself to look at the man. Athos wasn't the only one who was going to be disappointed in him.

"We got the wine to take back to the house with us," d'Artagnan continued. "I was still on edge and the place just didn't feel right to me. Athos noticed and told the serving girl we'd take the wine with us. She had just brought it back to the table when _he_ walked in."

"He who?" Aramis asked, his sudden fear nearly robbing him of his voice entirely.

"Pierre Champney," d'Artagnan confirmed. Even saying the name aloud was enough to make bile burn up the back of his throat.

"Oh d'Artagnan, no," Aramis moaned. "Please, tell me you did not..."

"I didn't do anything," d'Artagnan replied, ashamed all over again. "Athos stopped me."

"Good," Aramis told him firmly, the fear loosening at the knowledge that his young lover was not now a murderer. He saw d'Artagnan jerk his head up and gape at him and brought both of his hands around to his shoulders and clasped him tightly. "I know you want vengeance in my name. I understand it, truly I do. And, though I think it wholly unnecessary, I will not stand in your way. But I will not lose you because of it. Do you hear me?"

"Yes," d'Artagnan said at once, staring wide-eyed at his lover. He could see the combination of fear and anger in Aramis' eyes and it tore at him. Disappointed, indeed.

Aramis pulled him into his arms then, holding him to him as he let his turbulent emotions calm once more. D'Artagnan had done nothing. Athos had stopped him in time. They did not have to run. He had not lost him. And he would not, not if Aramis had any say in the matter.

"I'm sorry," d'Artagnan said after a few minutes. He could see how upset Aramis was with his behavior. That had never been his intent. He only ever wanted to protect him and again he had failed to.

"It's alright," Aramis told him. "I know you did not set out to do this."

"No," d'Artagnan agreed. "He just... just walked into the tavern without a care in the world. I was up and moving before I even realized. Had it not been for Athos' quick reflexes..."

Aramis actually shuddered at the thought, all too easily imagining what d'Artagnan meant. His Master would have challenged him at the very least, if not simply killing him on the spot. With a tavern full of witnesses, there would have been no escape for the young man.

"It did not happen," Aramis said, reassuring himself as much as d'Artagnan. "It did not happen and you are safe."

"Athos..."

"What about Athos?" Aramis asked, when d'Artagnan said no more.

"He says he is not, but I do not know how he could help but be disappointed in me," d'Artagnan said. "As I am sure you are as well."

"I am not disappointed in you," Aramis told him gently. "How can I be? You sought to protect me, nothing more. And I assure you, Athos is not disappointed in you either. We love you, d'Artagnan. I am unhappy that you nearly had a run-in with Pierre, but only because of the danger it put you in."

D'Artagnan let out a shuddering breath and jerked Aramis to him. He held onto him tightly, as if afraid he might disappear if he let go. "I'm so sorry," he whispered, barely holding his tears at bay. "I did not mean to break my promise to you. I swear I did not. Forgive me, please."

"D'Artagnan," Aramis gasped. He held him back just as tightly when he realized how upset the younger man was. "It's alright. You did not do anything wrong. You did not break your promise to me. There is nothing to forgive, love."

D'Artagnan was still a bit subdued when they joined the other two in the sitting room. From the guarded look on Porthos' face, he knew that Athos had already explained what had happened. He frowned at the worry he saw clouding Athos' eyes as well then shook his head in exasperation.

"You all worry about me far too much," he said as he sat down next to Porthos. He pulled d'Artagnan along with him and pressed him down next to Athos. "While I am not pleased that the two of you nearly had an altercation with Pierre, I am not angry. It was not done with forethought and, in truth, it was bound to happen at some point."

"Yeah," Porthos agreed. It really had been bound to happen. He only wished all four of them had been together when it did. Maybe then the Whelp wouldn't be so upset with himself. And maybe Athos wouldn't think he'd somehow done wrong keeping the boy from getting himself the noose.

"What is it?" Aramis asked, sensing that something more was going on than simply d'Artagnan's worry.

"Nothing," d'Artagnan said as he sat awkwardly between Aramis and Athos on the divan.

"He is not upset with you," Aramis told d'Artagnan, his eyes shifting to Athos' for help. "D'Artagnan, you could not disappoint him if you tried. You made a mistake, love. You let your anger and your concern for me overshadow your common sense. I know you will not be so rash again."

"I won't," d'Artagnan promised. "I didn't mean to..."

"We know," Athos added softly. "You are not to blame here, my love." He blushed hotly then, not meaning to address the other man in such a way. Not when he still looked at him with such trepidation.

"Please," d'Artagnan begged, his hand blinding seeking Athos' own. Finding it, he clutched it, squeezing it tightly, much the same way he had done to Aramis earlier.

Realizing how his lover had taken his actions, Athos leaned forward and wrapped his arms securely around the other man. He leaned back once more, this time pulling d'Artagnan with him so that he lay against his chest. He did not relinquish his hold, though, unwilling to have any distance between them right then.

"Athos," d'Artagnan moaned softly. He still felt as if his actions had been a disappointment. He had behaved poorly, as both Athos' lover and his brother.

"Shh," Athos soothed as he held him. "Listen to Aramis. You did nothing to disappoint me. Caring for him, wanting to protect him, I will never see that as wrong. Yes, I stopped you, but only because we could none of us stand it to lose you. We love you, d'Artagnan. I love you. That is something you never need doubt."

When they prepared for bed that night, Porthos pulled Athos aside. He cast a glance at Aramis, letting him know that he wanted to talk to Athos alone again for a few minutes. He saw Aramis pause then tilt his head in silent agreement. Porthos understood. He would keep d'Artagnan diverted but Porthos needed to make it quick.

"You wished to speak with me?" Athos asked once Aramis and d'Artagnan were safely out of earshot.

"Yeah, I, uh, wanted to ask you something," Porthos said, suddenly nervous. He didn't think Athos would object to what he had in mind but he wanted to ask him first all the same.

"Porthos?" Athos frowned. "What is it?"

Porthos took a breath and began again. "I want to get Aramis something. I'm, uh, I'm not really sure what yet. A ring maybe. Or an earring, if he'd be willing."

"And you felt the need to speak to me about this first?" Athos asked, wanting to make sure he understood what it was Porthos was telling him.

"Yeah," Porthos nodded. "It's not just a ring I want to give him. I mean, it is, but it's not. I'm not saying this right."

"On the contrary, brother, I think I know what it is you are trying to tell me," Athos said, taking pity on the man. "You wish it to be a sign of the commitment between you. Much the same way Aramis' collar does."

"Yes," Porthos said, relieved that Athos understood him. "Do you mind?"

"Porthos, you are not truly asking my permission for this, are you?" Athos asked, somewhat appalled at the idea.

"Yes, I am," Porthos said. "He was your lover first. If not for you, we wouldn't even be together. So, yeah, brother, I'm asking if you mind."

"You are, without a doubt, one of the best men I have ever known. You are also, without a doubt, one of the most foolish at times. I do not mind, Porthos. I think it a marvelous idea. In fact, I am tempted to do the very same thing myself where d'Artagnan is concerned."

When they entered the bedroom, they found Aramis and d'Artagnan curled up in the middle of their bed. Both men smiled softly at the sight, indulgent as ever where their lovers were concerned. Aramis looked at the pair, sending a questioning glance in Porthos' direction but the man only smiled wider and shook his head. Aramis cast him a final mock-glare before turning his attention back to the young man in his arms.

"Is everything okay?" D'Artagnan whispered, having picked up on the brief undercurrent between them pair.

"All is well," Aramis said. "Porthos has merely chosen now to be mysterious for once. It is nothing you need worry about."

As Aramis lay in bed, d'Artagnan in his arms and Porthos curled protectively along his back, he could feel the tension in the room steadily growing. D'Artagnan and Athos both seemed reluctant to sleep. After their trip, Aramis would have thought it would be the opposite with both men looking forward to sleeping in their own bed again.

"Whatever it is," Aramis said softly, taking a chance. "We are here and together. You are both safe. Porthos and I will allow no harm to come to you. You may rest, loves. We shall not leave you."

"Forgive us," d'Artagnan said after long moments of stunned silence. He had not realized he and Athos both were so obvious in their reluctance to sleep. "We know we are safe with you. However, I do not believe our dreams last night were kind to either of us."

"You want to talk about it?" Porthos offered.

"No," d'Artagnan said at once, trembling violently at the thought.

"Thank you, brother, but no," Athos said, his voice much calmer than the younger man's. "D'Artagnan is correct. It is merely the culmination of everything that has left us on edge."

"Alright, brother, but we are here for you if you have need of us," Porthos told him.

D'Artagnan breathed a sigh of relief when he awoke the next morning, having slept the night through without any sign of that horrible nightmare. Perhaps it was nothing more than his own guilt making him dream such things and now that he was home and the matter resolved, his mind no longer felt the need to punish him so. Turning his head, he saw that Athos was still asleep. Like him, his sleep seemed void of dreams as well. He was thankful for that. Athos had done nothing wrong. The man deserved a peaceful night's rest.

"I must admit, I prefer waking this way with you over the last time," Athos said without cracking an eye.

"As do I," d'Artagnan agreed, grinning. He felt as if the world had righted itself once again, his footing no longer precarious, at least where Athos was concerned.

"Sounds like you two are feeling better," Porthos said from over Aramis' shoulder. Both men turned to look and found the pair watching them.

"We are," Athos said. He should have known the steadying presence of his brothers would prove a balm to both of them.

After breakfast they lingered around the kitchen table. D'Artagnan went into a bit more depth about his talk with Constance, explaining that they knew they still had work to do but both were willing to put in the effort to heal the rift between them. Aramis blushed when d'Artagnan mentioned Constance's request that Aramis be the one to give her away, proud that she would consider him for it.

"Guess all we gotta decide now is when we want to go back," Porthos said. He was relieved that things had gone so well. Athos had told him they had but to hear it directly from the Whelp eased the last of his worries. If both of them were willing to try to meet in the middle, then nothing would be able to stop them.

"I, for one, would like to do so before the wedding," Athos said. "I would like some time to get settled in, possibly resume our duties. I am assuming, of course, that we do plan to return to our duties."

"We do," Aramis said before anyone could say otherwise. He knew his lovers would not say a word if he told them he did not wish to return, but he refused to let this defeat him and driving him from the Musketeers would be doing just that.

"Alright," Porthos said, letting Aramis know with that single word that he would stand with him, whatever he wanted to do.

"Not to borrow trouble, as Athos likes to say, but when we do return to Paris, how do we keep from running into them?" D'Artagnan asked. It was his single biggest concern. He could not stand the thought of Aramis anywhere near those animals and would do whatever it took to prevent it.

"There is not much we can do," Aramis said, knowing that wasn't what his young lover wanted to hear. "I know the parts of the city they tend to frequent. We can avoid those, but there is always a danger of running into them in the market."

"And when that happens?" Athos asked.

"We do the same thing we would have done before any of this came out," Aramis said. "Nothing."

"Nothing?" D'Artagnan spat angrily, unable to help himself.

"Yes, d'Atagnan, nothing," Aramis repeated calmly. "Not if you do not intend for you and whichever of us is with you to hang. I know what I am asking of you, but it must be this way. I have agreed to allow you to exact what vengeance you will, but we must do so carefully. That means, if we encounter one of them, we simply turn the other way."

"Can you do that?" Porthos asked.

"I have so far," Aramis replied. "I assure you, though I have tried, I have not been able to avoid them entirely. How do you think I learned which establishments they tend to patronize?"

"The thought of them coming anywhere near you..." d'Artagnan snarled. His hand was balled into a tight fist as he fought to calm his raging temper.

"I know, Whelp," Porthos told him. "We all do. We feel the same, but we have to be careful about this. If you can't do that, then we can't go back."

"I... I will try. I know what I promised and I will not break my word."

"Perhaps, it would be in everyone's best interest if we stuck together once we go back," Athos suggested. It would keep any of them from running into Champney alone and it would also ensure that Aramis had someone with him at all times. He would have to discuss matters with the Captain, let him know that they could be split up no further than into pairs and even then that it would be best if d'Artagnan and Aramis not be paired alone together. He would not like it, but Athos did not think the man would overly object. Now if he could just get his stubborn lovers to agree to it.

"I doubt the Captain will be able to keep the four of us together around the clock," Aramis said, eying Athos appraisingly.

"No," Athos agreed. "But he can at least keep us in pairs with Porthos or I with you at all times."

"With me?" Aramis repeated, his brow furrowing.

"Yes, Aramis, with you," Athos said bluntly. "You are their target. You are the one that needs to be protected from them. And before either of you ask why I did not suggest d'Artagnan be with you, we both know what would happen if the two of you encountered Champney on your own."

"So my words mean nothing," d'Artagnan said. "You believe me so faithless as to..."

"What I believe," Athos interrupted firmly, "is that you love him enough to risk everything to protect him. I am sorry, d'Artagnan. I do not doubt your intent, only your ability to follow through on it. I saw first-hand how well you did once already and that was with Aramis safely back here."

"I see now that Constance is not the only one who thinks me unable to decide my own fate," Aramis said, his soft words causing all three men to look to him sharply. "I shall do as you have dictated. You may arrange it with the Captain as you see fit."

Standing up, Aramis pushed his chair back and walked from the room. His steps were not rushed or angry. He did not fume and stomp. He merely walked, his head held high as he left the room with the tatters of his dignity wrapped around him like a cloak.

"D'Artagnan," Athos began, but the younger man was not in the mood to hear any more. Taking his cue from Aramis, he stood as well, pushing his chair back with deliberate care and heading out the back door without a word.

"That could have gone better," Porthos said after a moment. He understood why both Aramis and d'Artagnan were upset. He probably would be, too, if someone was telling him what he could and could not do - for his own good, no less. But in the end, he agreed with Athos. They were not going to chance leaving Aramis alone where those animals could get their hands on him again and d'Artagnan had already proven how hot-headed he was when his family was in jeopardy.

"Perhaps," Athos agreed with a sigh. "Do you think me wrong, too, brother?"

"No," Porthos replied. "I don't care how much it hurts their pride, we're not taking a chance on losing either one of them. I'm just sorry you're the one that's going to end up bearing the brunt of their anger."

"It is not the first time. I doubt it will be the last."

&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M

It was late in the afternoon before Aramis roused himself to venture out of the library in search of d'Artagnan. He had declined to join the others for lunch and, since d'Artagnan had not come in search of him, he had to conclude that he had done so as well. He told himself that he was not really angry with his lover, but he was. Athos had done the same thing to him that Constance had and it made Aramis feel small and insignificant in a way only _they_ had ever managed to before.

As he headed through the house, checking for d'Artagnan along the way, he thought again about Constance. At least d'Artagnan had not lost his temper with Athos as he had done with her. He could only imagine how hurt Athos would be to have that kind of rift between them. Aramis paused as a thought suddenly occurred to him. What made him think that d'Artagnan had not taken as much, if not more, exception to Athos' word as he had Constance's?

Genuinely worried, he headed straight for the barn, hoping the younger man had taken refuge there as he almost always did when troubled. Aramis sighed in relief when he found d'Artagnan sitting in the last stall. Step one accomplished then. Now that he was there, he could see that something was clearly amiss with the other man. The saddle in his lap did not look like he had done anything to it, yet he sat staring down at it as if it held the answers to all of the mysteries of the universe.

"May I join you?" Aramis asked, daring to break into his contemplation but not wishing to intrude if the man still wanted solitude.

D'Artagnan looked up at him and offered a strained smile. "Always," he said as he set the saddle aside and motioned toward the bale of hay opposite him.

"He did not mean to hurt you," Aramis said after sitting down and looking his lover over. "He does not doubt your honesty or your sincerity."

"Just my ability to control myself," d'Artagnan said, angry still. Who he angry at, however, he was unsure. For if he had not lost control in front of Athos as he had, the man would not be doubting him now. Still, being told he would not be allowed to protect Aramis, that he was not good enough, stung.

"He worries for you," Aramis said, ignoring d'Artagnan's reply. It was true, Athos did doubt the young man's ability to keep his temper in check. While Aramis knew that Athos had cause, he also knew the rebuke had hurt the lad a very great deal. Especially after Athos had told him he did not find his actions a disappointment.

"I am not the one he need worry for," d'Artagnan replied.

"He loves you. We all do. Worrying for you comes without thought. Just as I know the three of you worry, incessantly so, for me no matter how much I tell you not to."

D'Artagnan sighed and took Aramis' hand. He rubbed his thumb over his knuckles, stroking them. "I am sorry his words hurt you," d'Artagnan offered then. "He had no right to do that, to take away your choice as if you were unable to decide your own fate."

"No," Aramis agreed. "He did not. But he did so out of love. I cannot much fault him for that, I suppose."

"Why not?" D'Artagnan challenged. "We, all of us, faulted Constance for that very same thing."

"That was different."

"How so?" D'Artagnan asked. There was no heat in his words, only curiosity. He truly did not see how the incidents were at all different. Both had treated Aramis as weak, as unable to live his life as he wished to. Both had treated him with blatant disrespect, as though he was somehow inferior to the rest of them.

Aramis sat for long seconds, trying to come up with an answer. In the end, he could only shrug. D'Artagnan was right. There was no difference between the two. Even their reasons had been the same. Both were seeking to protect him, to keep him from doing something they saw as dangerous. It was disrespectful to him as a man and as a Musketeer. That was what had upset him the most really, the disrespect it afforded him.

"I know you are angry," Aramis began again, trying a different approach. "For my sake much more so than your own. If I am completely honest, I am angry as well. But do not hold this against our brother. His actions were borne out of love for us as well as his own fears of losing us."

D'Artagnan huffed out a breath as he squeezed Aramis' hand. "I will try," he relented, unable to deny Aramis in this. "I cannot guarantee that I will be able to stem my tongue entirely, but I shall try. For your sake, I shall try."

In the sitting room, Athos sat on one end of the divan. His elbows were braced on his knees and his head hung down. He hated that he had done this, that he had angered both of his lovers to the point where they would not even come near him. That Porthos was somehow caught up in this as well only made it worse.

He had not meant for it to seem as if he were holding d'Artagnan's earlier behavior against him in some way. He wasn't. He understood and did not blame the boy for how he had acted. But he was a realist at heart. He knew d'Artagnan would never be able to restrain himself in the face of Aramis' tormentors. Especially if Aramis himself were there. No, this was for the best for all of them, he only hoped his lovers did not end up hating him because of it.

"You worry too much," Porthos said as he came into the room and sat down beside him. "They're pissed but they'll get over it. They love you too much not to."

"I think you are forgetting our boy's temper," Athos said as he looked up.

"And I think you are forgetting his capacity for forgiveness where his brothers are concerned," Porthos came back. "He feels slighted. But the slight was to him. He will not hold onto his anger over that for long."

"And the slight that I gave Aramis?" Athos continued, unable not to torture himself with all of the possible ramifications.

"That one might take a little longer," Porthos conceded. "But he'll get over it. Aramis will help him to if need be. They know you meant well, that it was your love for them that caused you to say what you did. They're not going to hold that against you."

"I hope you are right," Athos sighed.

It was approaching dinner time before the pair came in from the barn. D'Artagnan went immediately to the kitchen and starting preparing their evening meal. He still had no wish to speak to anyone, not even Aramis really, though he would not push his brother away.

Athos and Porthos had both heard the pair re-enter the house. When neither man appeared, they knew they had stayed in the kitchen, most likely starting on dinner. Excusing himself, Athos went in search of his lover, no longer able to simply sit by and wait. When he stopped in the doorway, he found d'Artagnan busy at the stove while Aramis sat at the table keeping him company.

Clearing his throat, Athos gathered his resolve and spoke. "I know you are angry with me," he began. "If you find my company too onerous to bear, please tell me so and I shall leave you in peace."

"This is your home," d'Artagnan shrugged, his pride refusing to let him say much else.

"And yours," Athos replied. He continued to watch his lover's back, hoping for some sign from the man. After what felt like forever, he sighed in defeat. "I shall be in my room. Please know that insulting either of you was never my intent and I am heartily sorry that I have done so."

"Don't go," d'Artagnan said. His voice was quiet but both men in the room froze as if he had shouted. Setting down the knife he was using, he finally turned to face the others. "I am angry and I am hurt but I would not see that drive you from our presence."

"I did not mean to..."

"I know," d'Artagnan cut him off, unwilling to listen to him apologize for doing what he felt was right no matter how much he might disagree with it. "Just... bear with me. Please."

"Always," Athos promised as he sagged against the doorframe. He knew they were both still upset with him but at least they were not trying to push him away. The rest, he would simply have to be patient for.

&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M

Aramis glanced about the sitting room nervously, checking again that they were not leaving behind anything they might need. He had gone through the manor, room by room, twice already and still he felt uneasy about leaving. He knew it had nothing to do with leaving anything behind really. It was more the prospect of leaving the safety of the manor that had him fidgeting and checking things thrice over. 

“We do not have to do this,” d’Artagnan said softly as he came up next to him. He laid a hand on Aramis’ shoulder, stilling him and giving him little choice but to look at him. “They will understand if you are not ready.”

“No,” Aramis said, shaking his head resolutely. “I will not allow fear to hold me back. I will not let her win.”

“There is no shame in needing more time,” d’Artagnan told him, not liking the idea of Aramis forcing himself to do this before he was ready.

“I know and I thank you for that, I do,” Aramis said, smiling softly at him. “I can do this, Master. I promise I can.”

“Alright,” d’Artagnan relented. He was caught off guard a bit by Aramis referring to him as Master. Other than during his final branding, the man had not referred to him in such a way in weeks. He was not sure if it was intentional or not and that worried him even more. For Aramis to feel so disconcerted that he forgot himself did not happen often and it never boded well for them.

Athos and Porthos both eyed the pair as they finished loading their horses. They could tell Aramis was on edge and were unsure as to why. When d’Artagnan turned back toward them, Athos quirked an eyebrow in question only to be met with the barest shake of other’s head. Both men understood the silent plea of “later” and returned their attention to the mounts.


	10. Chapter 10

They made good time getting to the city, even with the slow pace they kept in deference to their mounts’ heavier loads. Athos and Porthos were actually glad for the slow pace, for the closer they got to Paris the more nervous Aramis grew. When they were still two hours outside the city at their current rate, Athos finally had enough.

Reining his horse around, he pulled up next to Aramis. He took the reins from his unsteady hands, forcing his horse to come to a halt. He frowned when Aramis said nothing, instead staring down at the pommel of his saddle as if waiting for some blow to fall.

Porthos and d’Artagnan both moved in close to the pair, their worry as obvious as Athos’. It was on the tip of d’Artagnan’s tongue to say they were going back but he remained silent. He did not want to take the choice away from Aramis, though it pained him to watch the man struggle. He was not even sure what it was that Aramis was struggling with. He doubted if it had anything to do with Constance. That left the prospect of returning to Paris in general or, more likely, the worry over what might happen should they encounter the Champneys unexpectedly again. 

Aramis could feel his brothers gathering around him protectively. While it gladdened his heart to know they were there for him, it also shamed him for them to see him like this. He was a grown man, a soldier, a Musketeer, yet he was acting like a frightened mouse, too scared of its own shadow to venture from its hole. When had he become this? When had he turned from a man into a simpering creature afraid of the least little thing? More importantly, how was he supposed to return to Paris, return to his duty, if he was reduced to trembling already?

“If you can’t do this…” Porthos began only to be cut off by Aramis’ strangled sob.

“There is no shame in needing time,” d’Artagnan told him again. “The decision is yours, brother. None of us will take it from you and we will not think any differently of you regardless of what you decide.”

“What is it that troubles you so?” Athos asked, hoping to get to the root of the problem. Maybe then they could help Aramis to get past it, or at least start to.

Aramis looked up at them, his eyes over-bright as he struggled to keep his wayward emotions in check. He took a deep, shuddering breath then another. “I feel…” he began only for his words to desert him. He looked back and forth at the three men all but encircling him and tried again. “I feel a sense of foreboding. The closer we get to the city, the stronger it feels.”

“Like… before?” Athos asked, his hands unconsciously tightening on the reins he still held. 

“Not really,” Aramis shook his head, frowning. “I don’t think so at any rate. I would have told you if it was anything like that. I do not know how to explain it. It is like a heaviness within me. The closer we get, the heavier it grows.” 

“I do not like this,” d’Artagnan said, his own unease growing in the face of Aramis’. 

“I will not allow fear to rule me,” Aramis insisted, angry at himself for displaying such cowardice in front of his brothers. 

“Agreed,” Athos said, ignoring the small frown d’Artagnan sent in his direction. “But allowing pride to do so would be an even greater error, I fear.” They picked up the pace a bit then. If they were not going to turn back then they wanted to see the journey over and done with. Once they were safely at their home, maybe then they could rest easy. 

Unloading the horses proved much quicker than loading them had. Athos and Aramis stayed at the house, putting things away, while d’Artagnan and Porthos stabled the horses and stopped at the market to pick up provisions. They would see about stocking the place fully tomorrow. For now, they just needed enough to see them through. 

Aramis had stiffened when the pair had made to leave but he did not object. He knew it had to be done and they were none of them going off alone, but it still did not set right with him. He and d’Artagnan had both bristled a bit when Athos had dictated who went where but both had kept their tempers in check, a fact that was likely much more due to fatigue than anything else.

“He doesn’t mean it as an insult,” Porthos said as the pair made their way to the market after the horses were taken care of.

“I know,” was all d’Artagnan replied. He had no wish to discuss this, not with Porthos or anyone else. He knew if he did he would likely say something he would come to regret and he did not want that. 

“Lad,” Porthos sighed, letting his big hand settle over d’Artagnan’s shoulder.

“Let it be, Porthos,” d’Artagnan told him. “I am not angry with him. Perhaps one day I shall manage to prove myself more than an undisciplined boy to him.”

“Hey now,” Porthos frowned darkly. “He doesn’t think that. None of us do.”

“And yet I must have permission and a nanny with me to go to the market,” d’Artagnan shot back. There was no heat in his words, giving testament to his claim that he was not angry with Athos. The defeat in them, however, came through quite clearly.

“Whelp, he only wants to keep you safe,” Porthos said somewhat helplessly. He agreed with Athos but he could also see d’Artagnan’s point. He did not blame the young man for chafing under such restrictions. Were it him, he knew he would not do so with nearly such calm. It still hurt him to know one of his brothers was hurting, though. He only wished there was something he could do about it.

Back at the house, Aramis set the few books he had brought with them on the mantle. Athos had built a fire already and the room was pleasantly warm. He could not stop himself from glancing out the window in search of Porthos and d’Artagnan even though he knew it was too soon for them to be returning. 

“Porthos will keep him safe,” Athos said as he stood in the doorway watching the other man.

“Of course he will,” Aramis agreed, though his voice was sorely lacking in enthusiasm.

“If you wish, we can go find them,” Athos offered. He did not want to, did not like the idea of Aramis anywhere near the marketplace. Not after finding out how those fiends would lay in wait for him there. 

“No,” Aramis said, shaking his head and stepping back from the fireplace. “They will be along soon enough. Even if Champney recognizes him, I doubt he will do anything without me there. And Porthos will keep him from getting into any trouble.”

“I am sorry,” Athos said as he came over to stand next to Aramis. He started to reach toward him but Aramis stepped away. The move was a smooth one and it left Athos wondering if it was intentional or merely the result of poor timing on his part. He felt his heart clench painfully at the possibility. D'Artagnan might be his soul mate but Aramis was still as vital as air to him. He was the sun that Athos willingly orbited. He was not at all sure he could survive having that bright warmth taken from him.

“You have nothing to apologize for,” Aramis said. “You are doing as you feel you need to. You should not have to apologize for that.”

“I find myself unable not to when I see the pain my actions cause you.”

“We are all of us accustomed to pain,” Aramis offered as he moved around Athos and sat down on one end of the divan. “This too shall pass.”

When the two returned home, they entered the sitting room to find Aramis on the divan while Athos sat next to it in the armchair. The sight was so different from what they had expected that both men froze in the entryway. 

Porthos balled his hands into fists, angry at the powerlessness he felt. He truly did not know what to do to relieve the situation that would not put one or both of his brothers in danger. He looked at Athos and saw the regret in his eyes coupled with the resolve. He, too, saw no other choice.

With a sigh, d’Artagnan gently pushed past Porthos and into the room. He went to the divan and sat down, taking Aramis’ hand in his own. “I know you’re upset,” he said softly. “But he does not do this out of malice. He is only doing what he feels he must to protect those he cannot live without. I understand your anger, love, but I understand his fear as well.”

“You’re right,” Aramis sighed. “I am not angry. Not really. It is more a feeling of being stifled. I do not do well in a cage, as it were.”

“I dare say none of us would do well in such,” d’Artagnan agreed. “But it will not be forever.”

&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M

As the Musketeers settled back into their house, La Oscuridad swirled excitedly about the confines of its prison. The Seminarian thought himself caged, did he? He had no concept of the word. It would show him, though. It would show him what it was like to be locked away, all but forgotten, powerless and impotent to do anything save slowly watch the world go by. 

It would teach him what a true cage was. And when it had him locked up tight, when it had him bound and helpless, then it would make him watch. It would make him watch while nightmare after nightmare played out before his eyes. 

He would beg until his throat bled and still his torment would not stop. Not until his mind was broken into more pieces than could be counted by man. Only then, when he was trapped within the prison of his own mind, would it consider offering him the peace of death.

&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M

When the time came, they found themselves in their shared room preparing for bed. Athos watched out of the corner of his eye as Aramis and d'Artagnan stripped down, both men hesitating when they reached their smalls. Unable to bear the heavy silence and uncertainty amongst his brothers, especially when he was the cause of it, Athos slipped out of his own smalls then turned to face the others. In two steps he was standing before d'Artagnan. Without a word, he slid to his knees, his head bowed as he waited.

To say d'Artagnan was surprised by Athos' actions was an understatement. He stood staring down at the man then cast his glance toward Porthos and Aramis. Both men had inhaled sharply when Athos knelt in front of him and now Porthos stood with his arms wrapped around Aramis as they, too, waited. Looking back down at the man before him, d'Artagnan felt his heart clench. Still unsure but unwilling to refuse Athos, he slid his hand into his hair and gently pulled his head back so he could see his face.

"Athos?" D'Artagnan queried softly, his own uncertainty audible.

"Forgive me. Please," Athos implored as he looked up at the other man. Aramis, no matter how much he might try to deny it, took certain cues from d'Artagnan. He knew there could be no peace between any of them with first earning d'Artagnan's forgiveness.

"No," d'Artagnan said gently. "I will not forgive you for seeking to protect us, no matter how much I might chafe at it."

"D'Artagnan..." Athos began, unsure what to say, but desperate to find a way to bridge this sudden distance between them all.

"What do you want?" D'Artagnan asked him, calling on his own resolve to be whatever it was Athos needed him to in this moment.

Athos stared at him and licked his lips nervously. Finally, he managed to speak. "May I serve you, Sir?" 

D'Artagnan continued to look down at him for long seconds, purposely making Athos wait. He cast a glance toward Porthos and Aramis again. The understanding he saw in Aramis' eyes, coupled with the flare of lust, gave him an idea. "Is that what you want? For me to use you? Should I put Aramis on his knees as well, let the pair of you be our entertainment for tonight?"

"Please," Athos begged softly. He had not missed his brother's moan of want at d'Artagnan's words but he did not look toward him. He kept his eyes fixed on d'Artagnan, making his submission to him clear.

"What do you think, Porthos?" D'Artagnan asked without looking away from Athos. 

"I think that's a brilliant idea," Porthos replied as he tightened his arms around Aramis. "Just as an aside, both sets of cuffs are in the top drawer of the bureau."

"You, brother, are a genius," d'Artagnan said, grinning widely. He held Athos' head in place a moment more then released him to get the leather cuffs. When he turned back with them, he was pleased to see that Athos had not moved and that Porthos had stripped Aramis and put him on his knees as well.

"Once these cuffs go on," d'Artagnan began, "we shall use you as we see fit until we are done with you. Do you both agree?"

"Yes, Sir," Athos replied.

"Yes, Master," Aramis said softly, his head bowed respectfully as a sense of calm settled over him, the unease of the day bleeding away.

"If we do anything that you truly do not like or that causes you pain, you are to tell us at once," d'Artagnan told them as he sank down next to Athos. He stopped then and thought about what he wanted and, more importantly, what he thought they all needed. 

"You got an idea?" Porthos asked when he saw d'Artagnan get that sly look in his eyes again.

"I do, indeed," d'Artagnan replied as he moved back to give the others room. "Athos, Aramis, you two are to kneel in the center of the room, facing each other."

Once they were in position to his satisfaction, d'Artagnan tossed one of the sets of cuffs to Porthos. "Wrap your arms around each other," he instructed. As soon as Aramis' arms were around Athos, he cuffed them together behind Athos' back. Porthos quickly got the idea and did likewise to Athos. When they were done, the pair were left effectively hugging each other closely.

"You will kiss each other," d'Artagnan instructed. "You will not stop kissing unless it is at our direction or to tell us that something is wrong." Not waiting for a reply, d'Artagnan grabbed the oil from the nightstand and slicked his fingers before passing it to Porthos. 

With the pair up on their knees like this, legs spread as wide as the position would allow, it left them completely vulnerable to their lovers. D'Artagnan wasted no time. He slid his slick fingers down along Athos' cleft, causing the man to moan into Aramis' mouth, then pushed them inside. He was not rough but he was not overly gentle either, and he was pleased when Athos' quiet moan turned loud.

Porthos gave them time to get used to the position and steady themselves then he, too, slid slick fingers down along Aramis' cleft. He touched his hole lightly then sank two of his thick fingers in to the hilt. He chuckled at the shout his actions caused and put a hand on Aramis' hip to still him.

"I'm gonna hold you still and fuck you," Porthos growled as he continued pressing his fingers into the other man. He soon pulled them out and added more oil then pushed them back inside. He could feel his lover's body starting to open to him, too familiar with this now to truly resist. That was good, because Porthos did not think his patience would hold for long. Not with d'Artagnan doing the same thing to Athos right across from him.

"You wish to serve me so you shall," d'Artagnan told him as he pulled his fingers free much sooner than he normally would have. He oiled his cock and placed the head at Athos' slick hole. Pressing forward, he felt Athos start to shake as he breached him but he did not stop, pushing forward until he was fully seated within the man.

Athos gasped and moaned into Aramis' mouth as d'Artagnan all but spitted him on his cock. The younger man felt huge like this and his body struggled to take him in. The feel of Aramis in his arms, trembling slightly as well, along with the feel of the man's mouth on his was enough to distract him and allow d'Artagnan to do as he would.

"You feel so tight," d'Artagnan moaned as he held himself in place, giving Athos a chance to adjust. The objective was to heal his lovers not hurt them in some way.

Athos was grateful for the short reprieve and did his best to make his body relax. He had no idea how they would all survive it when the pair started fucking into them both like this but he would do as d'Artagnan wished in this. 

Once they were steady again, D'Artagnan spread his own legs a bit then took Athos by the hips. "You wished to serve. Do so. Fuck yourself on my cock," he told him. 

Athos groaned, his lover's words shooting through him. He used his hold on Aramis to help brace himself then he tensed his thighs and began to move. The feel of moving up and down on d'Artagnan's hard cock sent shockwaves of pleasure up and down his spine. Between the feel of it, Aramis in his arms, and the knowledge that Porthos and d'Artagnan both were right there watching him, it was right on the edge of too much.

Aramis felt himself sinking. He had been so off-kilter all day but now that his Master had taken him in hand, he finally felt right again. He had not wanted to admit how much even this small distance between him and Athos tore at him. Porthos might be his other half, but Athos was his first love. The bond between them was sacrosanct to Aramis and any damage to it felt like bloody wounds to his very soul. 

His Master has seen his pain, though, and had acted as he always did when his boy was in pain. Now Aramis found himself on his knees, Athos held in his arms as they held each other and kissed. And for Aramis, to be bound like this, on display for all their pleasure, was intoxicating. He could feel Porthos' fingers inside of him, making him ready as he drank down the moans and whimpers his Master pulled from Athos.

"Can you take me like this?" Porthos whispered into his ear. His cock was rock hard and he didn't know how much longer he could wait. 

With his mouth occupied, he could not give a reply so pushed his hips back, knowing Porthos would understand. It would be difficult. He was not stretched enough and the position was not an easy one to maintain, but he did not care. He could hear the strain in his lover's voice and sought to ease it.

"Tell me if it's too much," Porthos said as he pulled his fingers free. He oiled his cock liberally then began to carefully push inside. He knew he had not prepared Aramis quite enough and his tightness only proved it. 

Porthos stilled with the head inside him, meaning to give him time to adjust but Aramis had other ideas. He shoved back hard, impaling himself on Porthos' cock and wrenching a shout from the man as half his cock was suddenly engulfed in the hot, tight vice of Aramis' body.

"Eager," D'Artagnan smirked over Athos' shoulder. 

"You want to get fucked, Boy?" Porthos said, regaining his wits. He heard Aramis moan and push back again and gripped his hips. "Then you best hold on tight to Athos and keep kissing him. You stop, I stop. Understand?" 

Aramis whimpered and pushed back as much as Porthos' grip would allow. It was the only answer he could give. He did not dare stop kissing Athos for fear that Porthos would change his mind. He wanted to be fucked. Needed it even and he knew Porthos would not let him down. And part of him did not want to stop kissing Athos. Ever.

Holding his hips hard enough to bruise, Porthos began fucking in and out of him. He heard Aramis keen into Athos' mouth as he took him, not holding back. His lover was tight around him, his body still adjusting to the intrusion as Porthos fucked him. 

D'Artagnan chose that moment to snake a hand between Athos and Aramis. He caressed Aramis' chest until he came to a taut nipple. Taking it between his finger and thumb, he squeezed it, causing Aramis to nearly choke. Pleased with the result, he began to gently roll the nub, intent on driving Aramis to the very brink.

Athos felt Aramis keen into his mouth as Porthos started fucking him. He started to shake when d'Artagnan began touching him as well. It was almost enough to make him falter as he rode up and down on d'Artagnan's cock. That hard, thick length within him felt so good, grounding him in a way he had not even realized he needed. He was serving d'Artagnan, allowing the man to use him for his pleasure and he thrilled at the rightness of it.

"So fucking good," d'Artagnan gasped into Athos' ear. "So tight and hot on my cock."

Athos felt himself flush at the lewd praise. He tried to move faster, to take even more of d'Artagnan into him, wanting to make it as good for his young lover as he could. He could feel his own cock, hard and heavy, bobbing between his legs as he moved. He longed for his lover to touch him, to take him in hand and make him spend like this, but he had a feeling d'Artagnan had something else in mind.

As if reading Athos' thoughts, d'Artagnan leaned in closer so his mouth was next to his ear. "Don't spend," he whispered, loud enough that the others could hear. "I want to watch you spend down Aramis' throat while you suck each other."

"Yeah," Porthos agreed, the thought going straight to his cock and making him fuck into Aramis even harder. "You heard your Master, Boy. No spending until you got your cock down Athos' throat."

Aramis whimpered again at Porthos' words. He was shaking from the combined onslaught, his body a hairsbreadth from being completely overwhelmed. His cock was hard and aching between his legs as it slapped against his belly in time to Porthos' thrusts. He would do as he was told, though. He would not spend, not until his Master told him he could. 

Porthos began fucking him harder at that, no longer concerned with making Aramis spend. Apparently the Whelp had that all planned out. All he had to worry about was his own pleasure. It was selfish in a way Porthos normally wasn't with his lovers and Porthos found himself enjoying it.

"Porthos seems quite taken with the idea," d'Artagnan managed, finally releasing Aramis' tortured nipple. His voice was strained as he fought for control. "See how hard he's fucking him? Don't you wish I'd fuck you that hard?"

Athos did his best to nod without breaking his kiss with Aramis. He wanted d'Artagnan to fuck him like that, to take hold of him and rut him until he found his release. He ached for it, to be for his lover's use, to give himself to d'Artagnan in every manner that he could.

Taking Athos' hips in his hands, d'Artagnan held him in place and began fucking into him hard and fast. He felt Athos go stiff as his body tried to deal with the change in stimulus. D'Artagnan was hitting that place inside of him haphazardly, with no regard for his release. It made Athos feel reduced to the role of d'Artagnan's _whore_ and it sent a wild rush of desire straight through him.

Suddenly, Porthos cried out loudly and slammed forward. He held Aramis' hips flush against him as he began to spend, filling his lover's body with his seed. He could feel Aramis shaking as he spent inside of him and it made him try to spill even harder.

D'Artagnan could tell the moment Porthos found his release. He saw the big man go still behind Aramis and his Boy start to shake even harder. That was enough to push him over the edge as well. With a groan, he bit down hard on Athos' shoulder as he found his release.

Even Athos was shaking by the time d'Artagnan began to finally slide free of him. Porthos did the same and the two men moaned into each other's mouths loudly. Porthos and d'Artagnan took a moment to collect themselves then began unfastening the cuffs holding the two men locked together. The fact that neither man stopped kissing pleased both of them and they let them kiss for a bit longer after freeing them.

"You can stop kissing now," d'Artagnan told them at last. The fact that they did not immediately part, that they took the time to slowly release each other, eased something in d'Artagnan. He had bound them like that for a reason. He had wanted to try to heal the rift between them and it looked like he had been at least somewhat successful. For all of Athos' words, d'Artagnan knew that it was Aramis that truly ruled him. He and Athos might be soul mates but Aramis was something else entirely for the man and he would not see what was between them damaged if he could help it. 

"How do you want to do this?" Porthos asked d'Artagnan, breaking him out of his thoughts.

"Lay Aramis out on his back," d'Artagnan instructed. He had thought about putting Athos on his back but the one laying down would have little control over how hard his mouth was taken. He knew Athos did not always care of that and he wanted this encounter to be good for him.

With a nod, Porthos helped Aramis onto his back. He was so lost to lust that his eyes were glazed and he went willingly, allowing Porthos to situate him as he would. His cock stood out, hard and red and Porthos could not resist swiping his thumb around the head to gather the fluid there. He saw Aramis' eyes widen even more when he sucked his thumb into his mouth and grinned down at him. 

With Aramis spread out on his back, d'Artagnan helped maneuver Athos so that he was atop Aramis on his hands and knees, his face hovering over Aramis' swollen groin. Positioning himself at Aramis' head, d'Artagnan nodded at Porthos. D'Artagnan would ensure Athos did not lose control and hurt Aramis, leaving Porthos free to do as he wished. 

D'Artagnan gripped Athos' cock by the base and guided it down to Aramis' waiting mouth. He stroked the side of Aramis' face when he took Athos in eagerly. Still intending to guide the encounter, d'Artagnan stroked along Athos' cleft, letting his fingers brush over Athos' reddened hole. 

Athos choked when he felt d'Artagnan's fingers touching him there. He couldn't stop from thrusting, his cock shoving into Aramis' mouth deep enough to make him gag. He felt d'Artagnan's free hand on his hip and simply let go, giving himself over to the other man's will.

Porthos watched the others, grinning at the Whelp. Taking hold of Aramis' neglected erection, he held it up to Athos' lips. He was pleased when Athos opened his mouth at once, taking Aramis in. Not wanting the Whelp to outdo him, he let his hand slide down over Aramis' bollocks before slipping between his cheeks. He gave his lover a second to realize what was about to happen then he slid two fingers into his slick and loosened hole.

Aramis felt his lover's thick fingers press inside his sore hole and couldn't hold back a moan. Even Athos' cock in his mouth was not enough to muffle it and he would have thrust up if had the strength left to do so. As it was, he was on fire, desire burning through him like a wildfire through tinder. Athos' cock down his throat was making it hard to breath, making him feel light-headed while the feel of the man's hot mouth on his own member made his bollocks draw up dangerously.

"Yeah, that's it. You just take it," Porthos said as he fucked him with his fingers. He was easier about it this time, not wanting to cause him pain. He could see that Aramis was still down, lost inside of himself as he served them.

As Athos knelt over Aramis, d'Artagnan pressed a single finger inside of him. He heard him moan around Aramis' cock and smiled. He kept a grip on his hip, not wanting him to thrust too hard. He could feel him shaking as he fought not to spend without permission. 

"So good for me," d'Artagnan told them both. They were trying so hard to do they had been told. Glancing at Porthos, he saw the man nod and knew it was time to end this. Crooking his finger, he brushed it over the swollen bundle of nerves inside of Athos. 

"Spend for us," d'Artagnan said as he brushed his finger over that spot inside of Athos once more. "Both of you, spend for us."

With a strangled shout, Athos thrust forward as hard as d'Artagnan's grip would allow and began to spend down Aramis' throat. He could feel the man swallowing around him and shouted again, the hard cock in his mouth doing little to quiet him. He felt Aramis push up into his mouth and Athos sank down on his cock as far as he could, desperate to make him spend as well.

Aramis could only moan when Athos shoved into his mouth and began to spend. Unable to draw a breath, he pushed up with his hips weakly and was rewarded by the feel of Athos' hot mouth taking him in to the root. Between Athos' cock filling his mouth, his inability to draw breath and the feel of both Athos' mouth on him and Porthos' fingers inside him, he was lost. He moaned weakly as he began to spend, his cock spasming as he finally lost control.

If asked, neither Aramis nor Athos would be able to say how they made it into the bed that night. Both men were so out of it, they simply did as they were told, letting d'Artagnan and Porthos tend to and guide them. Somehow, they ended up in the middle of the bed and both men reached for the other, wrapping their arms around each other while d'Artagnan and Porthos bracketed them. In no time at all, both men were sound asleep.

&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M

When Athos woke the next morning he was surprised to find himself still held fast in Aramis' arms. It was as if the man was afraid to let him go and clung to him even in sleep. Athos could understand the sentiment. After coming close to alienating both him and d'Artagnan, he was as reluctant as Aramis, if not more so. 

As for d'Artagnan, he was not sure if their encounter last night meant he was forgiven or if it was merely the lad's inability to refuse any of them, regardless of the slight. He fervently hoped it was more than that. To think that d'Artagnan might have only done that because he could not bring himself to tell him no was almost sickening. 

"You are meant to be resting," d'Artagnan whispered over his shoulder.

"I am," Athos whispered back, hoping not to wake the others.

"What troubles you?" D'Artagnan asked him, all too aware of how his lover's mind worked.

"Last night," Athos began quietly. "What we did. I hope that it was only because you truly desired it and not... not just..."

"I wanted it," d'Artagnan told him, understanding what Athos was worried about. "I would not have done that had I not. It would be akin to a lie between us and I would never do such a thing."

"That is good to hear," Athos said. "I know you are still upset..."

"No," d'Artagnan told him. "I meant what I said. You need not offer apologies for trying to keep us safe. I would do no less in your place. And it should be quite obvious that Aramis feels likewise. I am not saying we will not still chafe under your restrictions, but we do not hold them against you."

"I love you so much, d'Artagnan," Athos said, emotion choking him. "To think that my actions have offended you so greatly that you would shun my company is nearly too much to bear."

"I did not mean to act as such," d'Artagnan told him. "You know how I am. To withdraw is my way. And I did not want to cause further friction between us."

"It was the same for me," Aramis said softly. He had come awake and heard d'Artagnan's words. It was not hard to figure out what they were talking about. "You know how sharp my tongue can be."

"I am sorry we woke you," Athos apologized.

"I am not," Aramis told him. "It is in my nature to refuse to be tamed against my will. Even when I know it is in my best interest. I understand what you are doing and why. I even understand the logic of it. But that does not mean I like it and it does not stop me from fighting against it."

"If there were any other way," Athos offered, feeling suddenly helpless.

"There is not," d'Artagnan said. "At least not any we have managed to think of."

"Told you it would be okay," Porthos spoke up, letting the three know he, too, was awake.

Athos chuckled, feeling lighter than he had in days. He looked carefully at Aramis and was relieved to see that he looked much better as well. It would appear last night's encounter had done wonders for all of them. That was reassuring. Seeing Aramis so unsure of himself had an effect on them all and it had not been a good one. Aramis shined so brightly. To see him dimmed in any way was a physical pain. Seeing him like this though, relaxed and smiling, made Athos' heart ache in the best way.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a bit short but I wanted to get something out there before the holidays. Enjoy!

"So what is the plan for today?" Aramis asked once they had finished their meager breakfast. He sincerely hoped thoroughly restocking their provisions was on the list. 

"I thought you and I might pay a visit to Constance," Athos said, keeping his voice carefully neutral. For all that his brothers said they understood his reasoning and even agreed with him, he knew it went against their natures to simply accept such things. "If you've a mind, that is."

"I would love to," Aramis said at once, eager to see Constance again. He cast a sidelong glance at d'Artagnan and saw him nod slightly. He knew he did not need the man's permission, that he would never deny him this, but he still preferred to have his blessing as it were. If he was not yet ready for him to meet with Constance, then he would wait.

"Me and the Whelp can go by the garrison and see the Captain," Porthos offered. "Let him know we're back in Paris. What do you want me to tell him if he asks when we're coming back?"

"Tell him we are not sure yet," Athos said. "We can discuss it tonight if you would all like. I want a few days at least to get acclimated to being here again before we agree to return to duty."

"Agreed," d'Artagnan said, grateful for Athos' caution in this. He remembered all too well how apprehensive Aramis had been about returning. He did not want to push the man before he was ready.

"We'll hit the market as well," Porthos said. "See about restocking the place properly."

"That would be good," Aramis said. "We need to go through the house and see what still remains. I brought basic first aid supplies with me but that is all."

"We should be safe enough here in the city," Athos said, a bit worried by Aramis' words.

"I know," Aramis said. "But I would not be caught unprepared. I will not lose one of you for want of a bandage of all things."

"Very well, brother," Athos said. "We can go through the house tonight and see what we have and what we might need. I am sure the Captain would be willing to allow us access to the garrison's supplies if necessary."

They walked together until they got to the crossroad for the garrison. Aramis had to actually stop himself from taking d'Artagnan into his arms when they parted. He blushed furiously at his slip, shaking his head even as he admonished himself. He could not afford such slips, not here. None of them could. 

"Peace, brother," Athos said as they continued on toward the Captain's house. "I realize it is jarring to be back here again, to realize you do not have the freedom you have become accustomed to. This newness shall pass."

"I know," Aramis agreed. "Let us hope I do not end up getting us hanged in the meantime."

Constance was just stepping outside to head to the market when she saw Athos and Aramis walking up the lane. She dropped the basket she had been holding and ran to the pair of them. She threw her arms around Aramis and laughed when he lifted her off her feet and spun her around. She was still smiling widely when Aramis set her back down. Looking at the pair of them, she saw an answering smile on Aramis' face. Even Athos was smiling somewhat indulgently at the pair of them.

"I have missed you," Aramis whispered as he hugged her once more.

"I've missed you, too," Constance replied. "I'm so sorry. I never meant to hurt you."

"Hush now," Aramis said gently. "It is over. I know you only spoke out of your concern for me. I am just sorry it took so long for us to all reconcile."

"Yes, well, d'Artagnan does not forgive such things easily. If at all," she said as she forced herself to release him and step back. 

"He will always forgive you, Constance," Aramis assured her. "He loves you. As do I."

"As do we all," Athos added. "But perhaps it would be best if we took our love indoors. I do not believe the entire street need be privy to it."

"Yes," Constance laughed. "The gossipmongers have enough to talk about as it is with me moving in here. Let's not give them anything extra to wag their tongues about."

"Has anyone been giving you trouble?" Aramis asked, the slightest bit of bite in his words. If someone was daring to make things difficult for Constance, he would put a stop to it.

"No one you need concern yourself with," Constance told him, linking her arm in his and walking back toward the house. "Besides, after the wedding, they won't be able to say much."

Both men held their tongues and followed Constance inside. Aramis cast a quick glance at Athos and saw him nod. They would be looking into this regardless of what Constance said. If someone was harassing her simply because she had moved into the Captain's house, they would see to it. Constance was their family, too, after all. 

"Are you back now?" Constance asked, unable to refrain. "All of you?"

"Yes," Athos told her. "We arrived late yesterday. Porthos and d'Artagnan are going to inform the Captain that we have returned to the city."

"I'm so glad you're back. I've missed you all so much and..."

"And?" Aramis asked when Constance paused.

"Jean has, too," she admitted. "He says the place is far too quiet without you all running about causing havoc. He doesn't like to admit it, but he's been worried about you."

"We are sorry," Aramis said. "We did not mean to worry anyone. I... I needed time."

"Of course!" Constance said at once. "Oh Aramis, I did not mean for you to think we did not understand. We know you needed time after everything that happened. You all did. We do not begrudge you that, we just wish you had not been so far away from us. Your brothers are not the only ones who care about you."

"Thank you," Aramis said gratefully. "You and the Captain, you mean a very great deal to us as well."

&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M

"They'll be fine," Porthos said as he and d'Artagnan headed toward the garrison.

"Yes, I know they will," d'Artagnan replied. 

"We know you'd rather be with him, Whelp, but it's got to be this way."

"I... It is not that. Not really," d'Artagnan tried to explain. "And it is not that I do not enjoy your company. But it is his first time back here, away from the maison, where _they_ could be around any corner. I am sorry, brother, but until we take care of them I will not rest easy with him out of my sight."

"You're not alone there, lad," Porthos said. "But Athos will kill them if they so much as try to come near him. Them or anyone else that means to do him harm."

"And how are we to do our jobs, to act as the King's Musketeers, if I cannot so much as let him out of my sight?"

"This won't be forever. You'll see. Once we deal with those monsters, things will look a whole lot better."

"It is not just those two that worry me," d'Artagnan told him. "If it were up to me..."

Porthos stopped suddenly, halting d'Artagnan and turning him to face him. "I know you want to keep him safe. We all do. But it's not your decision to make. Aramis has the right to live his life the way he sees fit. You don't get to take that from him."

D'Artagnan stared at Porthos, aghast that the man would think he would ever do such a thing. He loved Aramis. He would never take away his right to live as he wished. No matter how much it might worry him. "Have no fear, Porthos. I would never seek to cage him. He is a man grown and fully capable of deciding his fate for himself."

"You're a good man, d'Artagnan," Porthos nodded, releasing him so they could continue on their way. "We'll get through this, same as we get through everything. Together."

When they reached the garrison they headed straight to the Captain's office. They had seen the looks from their brothers as they crossed the yard but did not acknowledge them yet. They did not know when they would be coming back, assuming the Captain allowed them to resume their duties at all. He would be within his rights to declare them unfit. Even if the Captain did allow them back, there was still the question of when they would be returning.

Both men couldn't help but smile at Treville's bark of enter. It was reassuring to see that regardless of what all might have changed, some things never would. After closing the door behind them, Porthos was about to say as much when the look on the Captain's face stopped him.

"What's wrong?" Treville asked worriedly when he saw Porthos and d'Artagnan standing before him. 

"Sir?" Porthos asked, unsure why the Captain would think something was wrong.

"Where are Athos and Aramis?" Treville demanded, fear sharpening his tone.

"They went to see Constance," d'Artagnan said, understanding what had worried the Captain so. "We thought it best to divide up. Athos accompanied Aramis to see her and we came here to let you know we had returned to the city."

"My God, man," Treville huffed. "I'm too old for such frights."

"You're not old," Porthos said at once. "And we didn't mean to give you a fright."

Letting Porthos' words pass, he motioned toward the chairs in front of his desk. "I would have thought you would have gone with him to see Constance, d'Artagnan."

"Like Porthos said, we decided to split the errands between us," d'Artagnan shrugged. 

"And you could not have accompanied him while Athos and Porthos came here?" Treville pressed. He could tell that something more was going on but he did not know what.

"No," d'Artagnan said succinctly.

"Athos was gonna go over all of this with you and explain, but we think it best if we stay together," Porthos said. "In pairs at the very least. And we think it best if Aramis and d'Artagnan not be paired alone together."

"And why is that?" Treville asked. He did not miss the flash of anger in the younger man's eyes at Porthos' words and frowned heavily.

"Might be best if Athos explains all of that," Porthos said, rubbing the back of his neck. 

"Suffice it to say that there is... is danger for Aramis in Paris and they do not think me to have sufficient self-control if a _situation_ were to arise," d'Artagnan all but spat.

"And will this situation, as you put it, pose a problem when you return to duty?" Treville asked. 

"Hopefully we will have taken care of the problem by then," Porthos said. "But if we haven't, then it would be best if we were assigned together."

"I will let this go for now," Treville said. "But I will want to know the particulars before allowing you back on duty. I have to know if your being here is going to present a danger to anyone."

"It won't," d'Artagnan said. "At least not to anyone other than Aramis."

"Very well then. I must say, I am glad to have you men back. I know Constance will be beside herself."

"Thank you, Sir," Porthos said. "It's good to be back."

"Do you know when you will be ready to return to duty?" Treville asked, getting straight to the point.

"Not yet," Porthos replied. "We need to get settled in and get used to being back here. Then, well, we've got that little problem we need to take care of. Not sure if we'll manage to see to that by then."

"Alright. Just keep me informed," Treville said. "And d'Artagnan, thank you again. I know it was not easy for you to forgive what you saw as a betrayal by Constance. That you did, means a very great deal to both of us."

"He loves her," d'Artagnan shrugged, as if that was all that needed to be said on the matter. To him, it was. Yes, Constance had betrayed him when she had attacked Aramis, but he understood that it was her love for him that drove her to it. He could not fault her for that. In the end, though, it came down to the simple fact that this rift was hurting his family and that was something he would not allow to continue.

"You both mean the world to us, Captain," Porthos elaborated. "And we're grateful for everything you've done for us."

Porthos wasn’t surprised to find several of their brothers congregated at the bottom of the stairs when they left the Captain’s office. Smiling widely, he greeted the men and leaned back against one of the wide beams that supported the landing outside the Captain’s office. He and d’Artagnan quickly assured the men that everything was fine and that Athos and Aramis had simply had another errand to run. 

As Porthos filled their brothers in on how they were doing and what they had been up to these past months, d’Artagnan slowly moved away. It wasn’t that he did not want to talk to the men, but his history with them was much shorter and many of the things they mentioned to Porthos, he had no knowledge of. 

In all honesty, d’Artagnan was simply enjoying being back here once again. He had not realized how much he truly missed this place until he was away from it for so long. Even now, though they were back, he still worried. Aramis was having a harder time with their return than he had thought he would. If he continued to struggle so, they might very well find themselves leaving once more and this time for good.

These thoughts and more tumbled over and over through d’Artagnan’s head as he wandered about the courtyard. He stayed toward the back, away from most of the men. He wasn’t sure why, but he felt more comfortable on the outskirts. When he started to head back toward where Porthos was currently holding court, he could feel something almost tugging at him, as if it did not want him to move away. 

Shaking his head at his own foolishness, he nevertheless took a step back, retreating into the shadows once more even as his eyes remained glued to Porthos and the others. Without warning, a wave of nausea passed through him that had him bending over and gripping the wall next to him for support. He started to take a step forward but his foot came down on something soft causing him to stumble backward. Looking down, he saw the body of a rat, long dead. There were several rats, in fact, along with what appeared to be the rotting body of a dead cat, scattered about. Without even realizing he was doing it, d'Artagnan swept the bodies aside with his foot, pushing them toward the far wall of the converted shed where they were less likely to be seen. 

With his back firmly pressed against the side of the locked shed, he swept the courtyard with narrowed eyes. He felt hot now, itchy, as if something had gotten under his skin. When he tried to shake the feeling, the nausea returned, nearly doubling him over. Straightening again, his eyes landed on Porthos and he felt a rush of irritation at the man as he watched him talking and laughing with the other men. Did he think this was a game? Did he not realize how serious this was? The animals that hurt Aramis could be anywhere and here Porthos stood laughing as if he didn’t have a care in the world. It made his fists clench to watch it and he opened his mouth to call out angrily when a hand on his arm jerked him from his thoughts so suddenly he nearly cried out.

“Lad? You alright?” Serge asked as he eyed the young man. 

“Ye-yeah,” d’Artagnan said, nodding to the older Musketeer. “I’m fine, Serge.”

“You look a little peaked,” Serge observed.

“I’m fine, really,” d’Artagnan assured him. He stepped forward then, out of the shadows, and felt another wave of nausea, though it was not nearly as strong as before.

“Alright,” Serge relented, walking back into the kitchen area to continue preparing the stew that would be evening meal. “Just mind you don’t come down with something before you even make it back on duty.”

&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M

La Oscuridad raged against the confines of its prison as the boy stepped away. It had felt him in its grip but it could not hold him. Still, it had managed to settle itself over him, leaving seeds of discontent in its wake. The boy was agitated. He worried for the Seminarian. _Aramis_. And this one was not like the others. This one had not had long years to learn patience and discipline. This one was bold, rash. 

This one knew fear. 

He feared the loss of his precious Aramis more so than even his own life. That knowledge was enough to make it thrum with renewed energy. It could feel its power singing all along its ephemeral body. Soon. Soon, it would be free of this prison. 

Free to wreak havoc. 

Free to exact its revenge.

Aramis would rue the day he had crossed its path. It would do things to him the likes of which he had never even imagined. It would break him utterly. And it would use the boy to do so. 

&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M

After bidding Constance farewell, Athos and Aramis headed home. Knowing it was too early for Porthos and d'Artagnan to be back yet, they decided to stop at a pub for a drink. It seemed like forever since the two of them were last in a pub together and both men smiled at the somewhat nostalgic feeling it brought on. Settling in at a table near the back, they ordered a bottle of wine.

They were half-way through the bottle when Athos noticed Aramis tense. He quickly cast about, looking for any sign of the man d'Artagnan had identified as Pierre Champney. Seeing no sign of him, he tilted his head quizzically at his partner but all he received was a terse shake of Aramis' head. 

"Oy, mate," a man to Aramis' left suddenly called out drunkenly. "You'd do better to try your luck down at the docks. The whores down there don't much care what you look like long as you got the coin." 

Aramis tensed even more as raucous laughter burst from the man's drunken friends. Athos' expression grew thunderous and he started to rise when Aramis' hand on his arm stopped him. Looking at him, Athos saw a combination of embarrassment and shame in his friend's eyes that made his heart ache. 

Refusing to let the words of a few drunken fools chase them out, Aramis insisted they stay and finish their wine before heading home. Athos had begrudgingly agreed but had made a show of placing his musket on the table next to the bottle of wine. His point made quite clearly, nothing more was said and they finished their wine in peace before tipping the serving girl and departing.

"I shall have to get used to such things, I suppose," Aramis commented as they slowly made their way home. "As will the rest of you. You cannot challenge every drunkard who makes a remark, Athos."

"Can't I?" Athos challenged.

"No," Aramis said firmly. "You cannot. That d'Artagnan will likely insist on doing so is bad enough. I don't need you doing it, too." He had tried to make his words sound casual, as if the careless words of a few drunken men meant nothing to him. He did not want Athos to know how badly those words had stung. He was accustomed to garnering attention because of his looks, but never like this, and he felt petty for allowing it to get to him. 

At home once more, Athos built a fire. It was more to give him something to do than for anything else. He could tell that the incident in the pub had bothered him more than he was letting on but he did not call him on it. He understood that the transition from the maison back to Paris was going to be difficult on Aramis. They could be there for him and help him but, ultimately, it would be up to Aramis to make peace with it. The fire lit, Athos joined Aramis on the small sofa. He didn't say anything. He didn't need to. His brother knew he was there for him. 

"I am fine," Aramis said after long minutes of silence.

"It is alright if you are not," Athos said, not disagreeing with him but letting him know he did not have to pretend with him.

"We knew it would happen," Aramis said, choosing to ignore Athos comment.

"Yes," Athos agreed. "But that does not make it any easier to bear. We knew it would happen, as you said. We also knew it would be painful for you when it did."

"It should not be," Aramis sighed. "Vanity is a sin I have often been guilty of. Perhaps this was God's way of curing me of it."

"You were never vain, brother," Athos told him. "That you took pride in your looks is not a sin. You did not use your looks for selfish gain. And I refuse to believe that the God you believe in so fiercely would act so. He could not and you devote yourself to Him as you have done."

By the time Porthos and d'Artagnan returned home, arms laden down from the market, Aramis had regained much of his equilibrium. It had helped that Athos had remained close, refusing to leave his side. He had scoffed at first, telling his brother he was surely in no danger in their sitting room, but Athos had merely arched one elegant eyebrow and went back to reading his book. In truth, Aramis was glad for his company. He always felt steadier with Athos by his side, the man's unwavering support enough to bolster Aramis even in the worst of times.

"Do not tell them," Aramis said in a rush when he heard the pair coming in the door into the kitchen.

"They will know," Athos replied softly. "They will know that something happened at any rate. You will have to tell them else d'Artagnan assume your meeting with Constance did not go as planned."

"I know," Aramis sighed. "I just do not wish to upset them so soon after our return. D'Artagnan especially will not react well I am afraid."

"No, he will not. Neither will Porthos but he will better hold his temper than our youngest. He does not react well to threats to you, no matter how minor. He never really has. Even before all of this, before we became lovers, he was protective of you though he did a better job at hiding it then."

"Why you all seem to think me so deserving is beyond me," Aramis said in fond exasperation. It was true, though. He had no idea why they all were so inordinately concerned with his well-being. They treated him as if he were somehow the most precious thing in their collective world. 

When Porthos and d'Artagnan entered the sitting room, they found Athos and Aramis together on the sofa. One look at Aramis and both men knew that something had happened. They moved as one toward Aramis, with Porthos sitting down beside him and d'Artagnan kneeling in front of him. Neither man spoke as d'Artagnan took Aramis' hands in his and simply held them.

"I am fine," Aramis said, looking first at Porthos then down at d'Artagnan.

D'Artagnan nodded but still said nothing. He wanted so badly to ask Aramis what had happened but he didn't. For as obvious as it was that something had happened, it was equally obvious that Aramis did not want to discuss it. He hated the thought of Aramis being unwilling to come to them, to let them help him, but he thought he understood. Their return had been hard on the man and they all knew it. That, in turn, made it hard on the rest of them. Aramis would not want to do anything to make it worse. He would rather shoulder whatever burden alone than to do that.

"If you would prefer to speak to Porthos alone, you need only say so," d'Artagnan offered, thinking perhaps it was him that Aramis was truly reluctant to speak in front of. After all, he had proven himself to be rather volatile where he was concerned. He would not blame Aramis for being wary of speaking in front of him.

"It is not you," Aramis said at once, not wanting d'Artagnan to think that he was the reason he was reluctant to speak of what had occurred. In truth, he simply did not want to think about it at all and telling his brothers would force him to relive his earlier humiliation.

"I do not think you are being entirely truthful in that," d'Artagnan said gently. "I know I tend to react badly at times. You cannot be faulted for not wanting to endure another of my tirades."

"What?" Aramis gasped, eyes widening as he saw the sincerity in d'Artagnan's eyes. His lover truly believed he did not want to tell them because of how he might react. While that was true to some extent, it was not because of how he would feel. He simply did not want to upset the man. 

"I shall leave you three to talk while I start dinner," d'Artagnan said as he gave Aramis' hands one last squeeze then stood.

"No," Aramis said, gripping d'Artagnan's hands tightly so he could not walk away. "My reluctance to speak is not because of how you might react. I only hesitate because I do not wish to upset you, either of you, so soon after our return."

"Aramis," Porthos huffed as he wrapped one big arm around the other man's shoulder. "We love you. If something upsets you, it upsets us. And before you say it, we can tell something upset you. If you don't want to talk about it, well, the Whelp's right in saying we won't make you, but you don't have to hide it. Not from us."

"I'm sorry," Aramis sighed. "I don't mean to cause such trouble."

"Stop right there," Athos said, speaking up for the first time. "You have caused no trouble. As Porthos said, we love you."

"Athos and I had a small run-in at a pub on the way home from seeing Constance," Aramis said softly. "We were having a drink when someone made a comment about... about my face. I know I should not let it get to me. We knew it would happen..."

"I'm so sorry," d'Artagnan said as he dropped to his knees in front of Aramis once more. He felt anger surge inside of him and had to fight to force it back down.

"It is alright," Aramis said, attempting to smile at the younger man. "It was only the careless words of a drunkard..."

"Had I been there, I would have thrashed the bastard," d'Artagnan said angrily. "But I am sure Athos showed him the error of his ways." He saw Athos stiffen out of the corner of his eyes and turned toward him, frowning.

"I would not let him," Aramis said before d'Artagnan could say anything more. "It was not worth causing a scene over."

"You are always worth it," d'Artagnan said, turning his attention back to Aramis. "I would have thought Athos understood as much."

Athos heard the rebuke in his lover's words and bit down on his own angry retort. Arguing with the lad would do no one any good, least of all Aramis. He could understand his anger, he had not liked letting the matter pass either, but it was Aramis' decision and Athos would honor it.

"D'Artagnan," Aramis whispered pleadingly. "I was the one who stopped him. Athos is not at fault."

D'Artagnan started to say more then stopped. He could see how much Aramis wanted him to let the matter be. With a terse nod of his head, he stood once more. "As you say," he finally said, nausea rolling through him as it had at the garrison. "Now I really must start on dinner or we shall all be going to bed hungry tonight."

This time, Aramis let him go, realizing that he needed a moment alone to get himself under control. He had not thought when he had held Athos back that d'Artagnan might take exception to it, seeing it as Athos failing in his duty to him. He had only wanted to avoid a public scene, but he could understand the lad's reasoning.

"He does not blame you," Porthos said to Athos once d'Artagnan had gone to the kitchen. "Not truly. He is upset and still chafing at the restrictions imposed upon him. Do not take his words to heart, brother."

"I will not," Athos assured him. "And really, he is not wrong. But Aramis did not want me to act and I will not disregard his wishes in such things."

"Thank you," Aramis said at that, glad that Athos understood and was willing to let him decide how he wanted such matters handled. 

"You need not thank me for showing you the respect you deserve," Athos said. "And our Whelp will come to understand in time. I fear you are not the only one who will need time to adjust to being here once more."


	12. Chapter 12

Alone in the kitchen, d'Artagnan felt some of his anger begin to leave him. He flushed lightly as he recalled his words. He had not meant to speak so, especially to Athos. If Aramis did not wish to cause a scene, then Athos was right to heed his wishes. He knew it had to have rankled the other man to sit by and allow such an insult to pass. He had no right to make it even harder on Athos by acting as if he had somehow been remiss in doing so. 

Once dinner was under way, d'Artagnan ventured back into the sitting room. He was not surprised to find the three still together on the sofa. The sight of them, together and safe with Aramis nestled between them, brought a smile to his lips. When his eyes met Athos', however, his smile faltered.

"I'm sorry," d'Artagnan said softly. "I should not have spoken to you so. I was not there. I have no right to pass judgement on something I know nothing of."

"You are his lover," Athos shrugged. "You have every right."

"No," d'Artagnan shook his head. "I do not. Not if in turn it gives insult to you. Forgive me, brother. I did not mean it to seem as though I thought you somehow in the wrong."

"We're all of us adjusting to being back here again," Porthos said. "We are bound to make a mistake or two along the way."

"You forgive far too easily, brother," d'Artagnan said, his disgust at himself only increasing.

"We will always forgive you, d'Artagnan," Athos said, rising from the sofa and crossing to where the younger man stood. "Just as you will always forgive us."

"Always," d'Artagnan avowed firmly. He reached out and clasped Athos' arm only to find himself pulled into an embrace. He went willingly, taking solace in the feel of Athos' strong arms around him as he always did in such times.

"Why don't you two stay with Aramis while I go and finish dinner," Porthos offered. He started to rise but d'Artagnan stopped him.

"That's alright," he said. "There isn't much left to do and... I could use a few more minutes to myself, if you all do not mind."

"Of course not," Aramis said softly. "We will be right here if you have need of us."

Dinner was somewhat different than they had grown accustomed to. While not silent, d'Artagnan was noticeably reticent, his mind clearly still taken up with earlier. Athos had tried to draw him out but after his third attempt Aramis had placed a hand on his arm, stopping him. 

"Leave him be for now," Aramis advised. He could understand the need to pause and reflect, having felt the same himself often enough. However, if their Whelp was still lost within his head by the time they retired, they would intercede. 

As the evening progressed, Aramis could only watch as Athos grew more and more tense. It seemed he found d'Artagnan's uncharacteristic bout of introspection disquieting. Aramis could not say that he blamed him. If he was honest, he found it a bit disconcerting himself. Their youngest, for his myriad wonderful qualities, was not known for stopping to think things through. That he was doing so now was putting him and Athos both on edge. 

When Athos actually dropped a bowl, shattering it on the floor and managing to cut his hand in the process, Aramis knew it was time to step in. Taking Athos by his injured hand, he led him to their shared bedroom. A quick toss of his head had Porthos grabbing a basin of water and pulling d'Artagnan along behind him. In their room, he pressed Athos down onto the side of the bed, careful to keep his hand from dripping blood on the linens.

"Do not speak," Aramis said when Athos opened his mouth. He met his brother's eyes as he held his hand, waiting. Only when Athos closed his mouth, his eyes flicking downward, did Aramis turn his attention back to his injured hand.

"Here's the basin," Porthos said as he and d'Artagnan entered the room. He set it on the bureau then pushed d'Artagnan down next to Athos before going to grab the first aid supplies Aramis had brought with them from the maison. 

"Is he alright?" D'Artagnan asked softly. He felt out of his depth suddenly, as if he did not know what to expect. It was not a feeling he was used to having around his brothers. Not anymore.

"He will be fine," Aramis said without taking his eyes from Athos' hand. He turned it over, examining it and was relieved to see that stitches would not be necessary. Athos should be fine assuming they kept the wound clean and dry.

"I'm sor-" D'Artagnan began only to be brought up short by Aramis' soft voice.

"Please be quiet," Aramis told d'Artagnan. He kept his voice low and even, making sure his words carried no bite. He might as well have screamed it for the way the younger man immediately quieted, his brown eyes going wide in shocked surprise.

"Here's your kit," Porthos said as he slowly entered the room. He had come back just in time to hear Aramis tell the Whelp to be quiet. From the way the boy immediately complied, Porthos knew he was still tied up in knots inside and desperate for guidance. 

Silently, Aramis set to work cleaning and bandaging Athos' hand. He did not miss the way the man finally seemed to calm as he took charge of his care. Once his hand was seen to, Aramis set the unused supplies next to the basin on the bureau and turned back to Athos.

For long moments he simply watched Athos. He took in the slightly too rapid breathing; the way the man had started to relax but now seemed to be tensing up once more. A sidelong glance at d'Artagnan showed him to be in a similar state, though to a lesser degree. Mind made up, Aramis continued to watch Athos, waiting for the man to attempt to break the strained silence.

Athos sat on the side of the bed doing his level best not to squirm. He had no idea why Aramis' scrutiny should affect him so but there was no denying that it was. It felt as if the man was taking him apart, peeling him back layer by layer. It was disconcerting to say the least and had it been anyone but Aramis, Athos would have already put a stop to it.

"Aram..." Athos began but a sharp look from the man in question had his words dying in his throat.

"I told you not to speak," Aramis reminded him. He kept his voice soft, gentle even, as he spoke. It was clear to him now what Athos needed. Another surreptitious glance toward the room's other occupants showed that d'Artagnan likely needed the same thing. That was fine with Aramis. He could see to Athos while Porthos tended to their Whelp. 

"You sure about this, 'Mis?" Porthos asked. He had a good idea now what Aramis had in mind. While he thought the man most likely right in his assessment, he wanted to make sure. He also wanted to clarify just what his role would be this night. 

"I am," Aramis said confidently. "Look at them, Porthos. The both of them are nearly trembling with need. It is alright. Porthos and I will take care of you tonight. You want that, don't you, Athos?"

Athos opened his mouth to reply then quickly closed it. Aramis had not wanted him to speak. Instead, he nodded once, his face warming slightly at the admission. He hated that he still felt such embarrassment around his brothers, but years of training made it difficult for him to admit to any weakness.

"That's good," Aramis said. He reached out and stroked Athos' cheek then, pleased when the man all but nuzzled his palm. "You want to let go for a while. You need to. You carry the weight of the world on your shoulders but you forget. You forget you have brothers and that we will gladly share that weight with you. We will, in fact, lift it from you entirely if that is what you need. Is that what you need right now, Athos? Do you need me to lift this weight from you for tonight?"

Athos nodded again, his face flaming as he gave in to what he saw as his weakness. He knew his brothers would never hold such a thing against him, would never even speak of it if he asked it of them. That did not make the asking any easier, though. 

"Alright," Aramis said, smiling gently at him. "This is what is going to happen. You will not speak without permission unless it is to tell me you need me to stop. Do you agree? You may answer."

"Yes, Aramis," Athos replied, his voice coming out strangled.

"So good for me," Aramis praised as he stroked his face again. "You will follow my directions without question or hesitation. Do you agree?"

"Yes, Aramis."

"Finally, you will do nothing unless I direct you to. That includes reaching your release. Do you agree?"

"Yes, Aramis."

"Porthos shall be seeing to d'Artagnan tonight while I tend to you. Will you be able to do as I have stipulated with them in the same room?"

Athos thought for a moment, considering what it would be like to have Porthos and d'Artagnan there with them, a few short feet away, while Aramis took him in hand. He knew it would make it harder, both for him to obey Aramis as he had agreed and to simply let go at all. The thought of them being elsewhere, though, was somehow worse. It was not that he did not trust Porthos to see to d'Artagnan, for he did. He simply did not want any of them that far away right now.

Locking eyes with Aramis, Athos took a deep breath and did his best to relax. "Yes, Aramis," he finally said, letting the man know that he understood and would strive to obey him as best he could.

"Porthos, I would prefer if d'Artagnan did not speak either, but that is up to you," Aramis said. 

"You heard him, boy," Porthos told d'Artagnan as he slipped his hand into his hair and massaged his scalp. "No talking unless you need me to stop. Alright?"

"Yes, Sir," d'Artagnan said, swallowing thickly. He could feel the first stirrings of arousal low in his belly, but it was almost an afterthought. His mind was awhirl with all that had gone on but the feel of Porthos' hand in his hair, rubbing his head soothingly, was a balm. It was as if a warm blanket was settling over his frazzled nerves, calming and soothing him at once and he closed his eyes as he pressed into Porthos' touch the tiniest bit more.

"Good boy," Porthos told him. Even if he hadn't picked up on Aramis' plans, the way the boy was acting right now told Porthos all he needed to know. For all their youngest liked a rough hand in bed, that wasn't what he needed. Not tonight. Tonight he needed a firm but gentle hand, someone to guide him rather than force him. Porthos only hoped he was up to the task.

The sound of Athos' sharply indrawn breath drew both Porthos' and d'Artagnan's attention. When they looked at him, they saw him staring wide-eyed at Aramis. Aramis held the man's injured hand cradled tenderly in his own. He slowly drew it to his lips and kissed it, first the palm being mindful of the gash he had just bandaged, then each finger in turn. There was nothing overtly sexual about it. It was instead meant to convey all of the love and respect and care Aramis felt for the man and Porthos had to wonder how Athos did not simply collapse on the spot under the weight of such care.

"Shh. It is alright," Aramis soothed. "I am here and I will take care of you tonight just as I promised to. All you have to do is turn yourself over to my care."

_Yours_ , Athos mouthed, careful not to speak aloud. For whatever reason, Aramis wanted his silence tonight. Well, if his lover wanted his obedience, then he would get it. Daring to look into Aramis' eyes, Athos was surprised by the wild mix of emotions he saw. His lover looked at him like he was something precious, something sacred. His look was as gentle as it was firm. Gone was any trace of uncertainty or timidity on Aramis' part. In its place stood a man confident in his own ability, who understood instinctively what was needed of him and was more than up to the challenge.

Still holding onto Athos' hand, Aramis pulled him up from the bed to stand before him. He took a step backward, giving the man room and making it so he could rake his eyes over him easily. He turned Athos' hand over and began unlacing his cuff, making a pleased sound when Athos merely stood still and let him do as he would. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Porthos taking similar action with d'Artagnan, pulling the younger man to his feet and slowly undressing him. He turned his attention back to Athos at that, taking his time as he unlaced each wrist then carefully stripped him of his shirt. He paused then, taking in the sight of his lover's partially clothed body. Athos never failed to take his breath away in moments like this and Aramis took the time to savor it. 

When Athos shifted his weight, Aramis glanced up at his face and saw the tell-tale blush staining his cheeks. That even now Athos would blush under such scrutiny from him made his heart swell with affection. "So beautiful," Aramis whispered as he stroked along his jaw. "So strong. Always so willing to shield us no matter the cost. I love you so much, Athos. My first love. Let me give you what you need tonight."

Athos swallowed hard at Aramis' words before nodding mutely. He had struggled to remain still as Aramis had looked him up and down, those dark eyes taking him in all the way down to his soul. Aramis always saw. Aramis was always able to look past whatever front he tried to put on and see him. It was one of the things that had drawn him to the man in the first place, all those years ago, when he had not even realized he wanted the brotherhood he offered, much less anything more. Aramis always saw and he never once turned away. He never once flinched at what he saw lying at the heart of him. Athos had no idea what he had done to deserve such understanding, such devotion, from a man as good as this one.

"My love?" Aramis called, softly jolting Athos out of his thoughts. "Is this too much?"

Athos shook his head at once. He had not meant to get lost in his head and it appeared his lapse had worried the other man. He reached up and covered the hand on his cheek with his own, trying to convey what he felt. He held Aramis' gaze as the man studied him and was relieved when he simply nodded and smiled at him.

"Very well then. Sit down on the bed and let me see to your boots," Aramis directed then stepped back to give Athos room. As soon as Athos was seated, Aramis dropped to his knees. He ignored the quiet gasp off to his side, leaving his concentration fixed on Athos as he lifted one boot and began removing it. He was as slow and careful with this as he had been with the man's shirt, relishing the act of caring for the other man. 

Once Athos' boots were taken care of, Aramis bade him stand once more. He remained on his knees, his face level with Athos' groin, as he worked at the fastenings of his breeches. Button by button, Aramis unfastened them. He spread them apart and untied the laces of his small clothes as well, then pushed both down Athos' long legs to pool at his feet. Placing a steadying hand on his hip, Aramis had him lift each foot so he could pull the restricting clothes free. At last, Athos was completely naked, bared to him, and Aramis spent long moments on his knees simply admiring the man.

"So beautiful," Aramis said again, his voice tinged with awe. He could not believe that this man was truly his. That a man such as Athos could love him was incomprehensible to him. But if his faith in God had taught him nothing else, it taught him that he did not have to understand something to believe in it. 

Athos could not help the darkening blush that stole across his face and down his neck. Aramis' unabashed scrutiny coupled with his words was affecting him in ways he was powerless to stop. Even if he could stop them, Athos realized he did not want to. This was Aramis. _His Aramis_. If he wanted to spend all day simply looking at him then Athos would not deny him.

Rising gracefully to his feet, Aramis maneuvered Athos back and onto the bed. He pressed him to the far side, leaving enough room for the other two. He saw Athos' eyes flick over to d'Artagnan and he turned his head to look as well. He could understand why Athos was drawn to the sight. It would seem that Porthos intended to follow his lead with their youngest and was gently divesting him of his clothes. He gave Porthos a nod of encouragement then rose so he could strip. He kept his eyes on Athos as he did so, making sure the man maintained the connection between them. He knew how much Athos needed that connection right now. 

As soon as he was naked, Aramis moved back onto the bed with Athos. He spread out beside him, pressing himself against the man's side so that Athos could feel him all the way down his body. It had the desired effect with Athos going limp and boneless on the bed, giving himself over to Aramis entirely. Aramis let his hand trail up and down Athos' chest, stroking idly. He felt Athos tense under his hand when he neared a nipple and again when he brushed the edge of his navel. 

"You like that," Aramis mused. "Alright then. If you wish me to do something you must let me know but you may not speak nor use your hands to do so."

Athos looked at Aramis, wide-eyed, then slowly lifted his hands over his head to grasp the head of the bed. He was not sure what his lover had in mind but he was Aramis' to do with as he wished. He only hoped he could remember himself and not end up begging helplessly. 

"Oh that's good," Aramis praised. "You want to be good for me, don't you? You want to be obedient."

Athos nodded again, the movement slower and somewhat clumsy. He felt light as a feather yet weighted down at the same time. It felt as if Aramis' gaze alone would be enough to hold him rooted in place, completely unable to move. Everything inside of him was crying out for this, to be taken and molded, to be told what to do, to have no worries other than showing how well he could obey. 

"So good for me," Aramis crooned. He could see Athos struggling to stay in the here and now and it surprised him somewhat. He knew how he reacted in such times. He also knew that Athos' reactions were, while still similar, vastly different. To see him so close to a such a state made Aramis wonder just how great his lover's need truly was.

"He's okay," Porthos whispered as he leaned in close to Aramis' ear. He did not want Athos to hear him and think he was doing anything wrong. "Just trust yourself, love. You won't do anything to hurt him."

Aramis nodded, grateful for Porthos' words. If even Porthos could see how differently Athos was acting yet still be at ease with it, then he knew all would be well. He took a moment to look at the other two, taking in the apprehension that did not even come close to masking d'Artagnan's desire. Porthos, on the other hand, looked calm and confident, letting Aramis know with a look that he was more than able to see to the younger man.

Aramis looked back down at Athos and smiled reassuringly. "I love you so much," he began as he traced a single finger around the man's nipple. He saw it harden immediately and brushed over it lightly. "You helped make me whole again. You are so brave, so strong. Our burdens are so many, yet you bear them without complaint. Do you know that when I am at my lowest, when my hope is fleeting, I have but to think of you and I am strengthened once more? 

"I am still awed at your bravery," Aramis continued. "Giving voice to your heart when you had no idea how it would be received. Even now, knowing how we would chafe at your restrictions, you did not hesitate. You would gladly suffer our ire to keep us safe. But our ire is never aimed at you, dear Athos. We chafe at the situation, at the necessity of it, but never at you."

Aramis could see how much his words were affecting the other man. Not wanting to emotionally overwhelm him, he took his stiffened nipple between his finger and thumb and rolled it. He kept the motion gentle. He meant for the motion to soothe and arouse, not cause pain. Judging by the way Athos arched beneath his touch, his hands tightening on the headboard, he had succeeded.

Pleased with Athos' reaction, Aramis leaned down and kissed him. He did so slowly, taking his time. He was gentle with him, using the same gentleness Athos normally used with him, attempting with lips and tongue to show him how very sacred he was to him. 

When Aramis leaned over him to press their lips together, Athos opened his mouth eagerly. The man had nearly undone him with his words alone. He needed a moment to calm, to ground himself and he could think of no better way than by Aramis' kisses. Even his kisses were almost more than he could take though, for Aramis was kissing him slowly, carefully, reverently. It was more akin to how he kissed Aramis than the other way around and Athos felt his heart squeeze painfully as the desire to simply give in and accept his fate at Aramis' hands roared through him.

A thought occurred to Aramis as he pulled back from their kiss and he grinned widely. "Tell me, love. Do you think you can spend more than once? You may answer."

Athos opened his mouth to reply then paused. He licked his lips, thinking then tried again. "I am yours. I will not fail you. Whatever you command of me, I shall do."

"You could not fail me if you tried," Aramis told him sincerely. 

"Aramis..." Athos moaned but Aramis covered is lips with a finger silencing him.

"No more words," Aramis told him, satisfied that Athos was up to what he had in mind. 

Athos nodded, relinquishing the use of his voice once more. He could feel himself letting go, losing himself in the moment. He wondered if this was what Aramis often felt but the thought was gone before he could really consider it. 

Pleased with Athos' easy acquiescence, Aramis leaned down and kissed him again, languid and thorough. When he felt Athos go completely limp beneath him, he pulled back. He placed a final kiss to his lips then began kissing his way across the side of his face and down his neck. He spent long minutes on Athos' neck, kissing and sucking, unmindful of the marks he was leaving behind. After all, Athos enjoyed wearing his lovers' marks, a tangible reminder for all to see.

Satisfied with the state of Athos' neck, Aramis began trailing kisses downward. He kissed across Athos' collar bone and down the muscles of his chest, stopping at the same dusky nipple he had played with earlier. He licked over the nub, smiling to himself when Athos gasped. He lapped at it then, making it stand up red and stiff before taking it into his mouth and sucking. 

Athos all but keened at the feel of Aramis' lips closing over that small bit of flesh. His lover was being so careful with him, as if Aramis thought him made of the thinnest of glass. He knew that wasn't quite right, Aramis thought him neither weak nor breakable, but he treated him as such all the same. It made Athos' heart ache as much as it did his cock and he had to fight to keep hold of the bed, his hands itching to reach out for the man.

When Aramis finally released the nub, he felt Athos let out a sigh and relax. He couldn't help but chuckle as he began kissing his way across his chest toward its neglected twin. This time, when his mouth closed over the nub, Athos really did keen, unable to keep the sound inside of him any longer. 

"So good," Aramis murmured again as he sucked and nibbled at the swollen nub. He could feel intermittent tremors running through Athos and it made his own cock throb to know he was having such an effect on the man. He was surprised to find that his words had as much of an effect on Athos as his touch did. 

Keeping that in mind, he released Athos' nipple with a last kiss then began trailing kisses down his chest all the way to his navel. He ran his tongue all around it, feeling the muscles jump beneath his tongue as he did so. This time he was expecting the sound Athos made when he dipped his tongue inside for the first time. Without raising his head, he looked up Athos' body and saw that he had his eyes squeezed shut as his hands gripped the headboard nearly tight enough to crack the wood. Taking pity on him, Aramis began moving downward once more, his target obvious. 

He kissed down one side, avoiding his straining erection for the moment. Kissing and nipping over his hip, he paused when he reached Athos' drawn up bollocks. He placed a kiss on them, first one then the other, before opening his mouth wide and pulling them inside. He felt Athos stiffen as he cried out and he clamped his hands down on his hips to hold him steady. 

With Athos now held in place, Aramis spent long minutes laving and sucking his lover's bollocks. He could feel Athos starting to shake in earnest as he struggled to hold on. Aramis released his bollocks then and placed gentle, sucking kisses all the way up his cock from the base to the head. A broken whimper from off to the side caught his attention and Aramis spared a quick glance toward the source. He saw Porthos sitting on the bed, his back to the wall. His legs were spread wide and d'Artagnan, naked and aroused, sat between them. Porthos had one arm around the younger man's chest while the other was wrapped around his waist so he could reach his flushed and swollen cock. The younger man was looking at him and Athos as if he had never seen them before and Aramis felt a flush of pride that even they were affected by him.

A bitten off sob quickly drew his attention back to Athos. Aramis looked at him sharply, taking in the way he still clung desperately to the headboard as he panted. Not wanting to actually torture the man, no matter how sweet that torture might be, Aramis bent his head down once more and took Athos' leaking cock into his mouth.

Athos could not stop himself from pushing upward, seeking to bury himself deeper in Aramis' hot, wet mouth. He thrashed his head from side to side, as waves of pleasure crested within him, one after the other. He cried out when Aramis took him in deep then bit down hard on his lip. Aramis had commanded his silence. Athos would not disobey.

Aramis pulled his mouth off of his lover and looked him up and down. He stroked his cock idly, keeping his arousal hot and bright. He could see the sweat coating Athos' skin and felt his mouth actually water at the thought of licking it off. Forcing himself to concentrate on the task at hand, he licked a long stripe up Athos' cock before pulling back again.

"Do you want to spend, my love?" Aramis asked. "Do you want me to take you in my mouth and make you spill your seed? You may answer."

"Yes," Athos groaned at once. "Yes. Aramis, please..."

"Then spend in my mouth for me, my Athos," Aramis said then quickly ducked his head back down to take Athos' cock into his mouth once more. This time he did not waste time but set to work bringing his lover off. He knew Athos particularly liked it when he took him in all the way so Aramis did, forcing his mouth down on his lover's cock as far as he could. Every time he pulled back, he ran his tongue around the head, making Athos gasp and jerk. He kept one hand on his bollocks, rolling and caressing them. He could feel them tightening in his hand and knew his lover was close. Sucking hard, he forced his mouth all the way down until his nose was pressed into Athos' groin and held it there. That was the last push Athos needed and he shouted as he gave an aborted thrust and began to spend straight down Aramis' throat.

Aramis continued to suck and lave Athos' cock, gentling his touch as the man came back down. When he began to squirm in earnest, Aramis relented and let his softening cock slide from his mouth. He gave Athos a little longer, letting him enjoy his release. He did not want to rush the man, that would go against everything he was trying to accomplish. He waited until Athos sighed and flexed his hands on the wooden bar he had been holding before rising up onto his hands and knees.

"You were magnificent," Aramis told him making Athos blush. "Thank you for trusting me enough to give you that."

"What about..." Athos began then quickly clamped his mouth shut. He did not think their encounter was over yet and Aramis had not given him permission to speak.

"It's alright," Aramis said indulgently. "You may speak now. In fact, I want to hear you. Can you do that for me, Athos? Can you let me hear the sound of your passion?"

"I can do anything for you," Athos told him sincerely. 

Aramis had to pause for moment, his heart twisting at Athos' words. He loved this man so much that he did not even have the words for it. "You are so precious to me," Aramis told him as he moved up so that he was covering Athos' body with his own. 

"No more than you are to me," Athos replied. 

"I want to make you spend again," Aramis said wickedly. "Will you give yourself over to me once more?"

"I am yours."

"Yes. Yes, you are," Aramis said as he reached for the oil in the bedside table. He settled back between Athos' thighs, spreading them a bit wider. "You have been mine since that very first day. And I have been yours as well. My brave Athos. My first love. I wish I had the words to tell you all that you mean to me."

"Aramis..." Athos groaned. He had just spent but Aramis' words were enflaming him. To hear such utter devotion from the man was not something he was accustomed to. He did not doubt Aramis' love for him, but it had been a long time since he had voiced it so ardently.

"Let go of the headboard and bring your arms down," Aramis instructed. He needed to move things along before he ended up spending all over himself. When Athos did as instructed, Aramis told him to grab his legs and spread himself. 

"Beautiful," Aramis whispered when Athos grabbed the back of his thighs and spread his legs wide. 

Athos could not help but blush under Aramis' scrutiny. He felt like he was on display, totally exposed to the eyes of his lover. It made him feel hot and cold at the same time as desire and shame both rose within him. Still, he did as Aramis bid, spreading his legs and baring himself to the man. He squeezed his eyes shut then, unable to withstand Aramis’ gaze while so vulnerable.

Aramis watched as Athos obeyed him. The fact that he did so without protest gave him an unexpectedly heady feeling of power. Normally, he was the one on his back, spread wide for the pleasure of his lovers. For Athos to so willingly trade places with him gave testament to the trust and love between them.

“Why do you close your eyes?” Aramis asked as he stroked one hand up and down Athos’ thigh. 

Athos swallowed hard as he fought to put his thoughts into words. “This… being like this… I feel… whorish.”

“Indeed,” Aramis chuckled. “But there is nothing wrong in being a whore for you lover, my dear Athos. You want to be _my_ whore. Don't you?”

“Yes,” Athos groaned his face on fire. He could feel the flush all the way down his chest when Aramis called him his whore. It was the truth, though. He would willingly be Aramis’ whore whenever it pleased the man. 

“So good for me,” Aramis whispered, pleased that Athos had been able to make such an admission. “So willing to do whatever I bid you. Oh I love you so much, Athos. More than I ever thought I would love anyone again. More than I ever thought I could. Tell me you know that. Tell me you believe that.”

“I do,” Athos said fervently. “I believe you, Aramis.”

Satisfied with Athos’ answer, Aramis uncorked the oil and poured some onto his fingers. He carefully set the jar aside then brought his slick digits down to Athos’ waiting hole. He rubbed over it lightly, almost teasing, before pressing two fingers against it. He gave Athos a moment to ready himself, then he pressed his two fingers in slowly. He had to bite his own lip at the feel of his lover’s body yielding to him as his fingers breeched him.

“Oh,” Athos cried out when Aramis’ fingers pressed inside of him. He was surprised at how quickly his body opened to him, easily allowing him inside. He felt those long fingers sinking into him, slowly filling him and tried to spread his legs wider still, wanting to feel Aramis as deeply as possible.

Though the fire inside Aramis urged him to rush, he refused to hurry. He was determined that Athos find nothing but pleasure in their encounter. If that meant his bollocks tied themselves in knots, so be it. It would be worth it to ensure Athos understood just how loved he was by him.

"Please," Athos panted as he pulled back on his legs, offering himself up completely for Aramis' use. "Please, Aramis. I need you."

"What do you need?" Aramis asked as he stroked one tense thigh with his free hand. The other was busy moving inside of Athos, stretching him and preparing him for what was to come.

"You," Athos gasped at once. "Inside me. Please, Aramis..."

"Shh," Aramis soothed even as he pressed his fingers in as deeply as he could and twisted them. The cry he tore from Athos at that was gratifying in the extreme so he did it again. After the third time, he slowly pulled back, sliding his fingers free and wiping them on the bedding before casting about for the oil once more.

Slicking himself liberally, Aramis setting in close between Athos' legs. He nestled the head of his cock at Athos' loosened hole, pulling a moan from the man. He spared a moment to look down, taking in the sight of them, his hard cock pressing against the entrance to Athos' body, then he was pushing forward past the loosened ring of muscle and slipping inside the man.

"Oh," both men moaned together as Aramis continued to press inside of him, not stopping until he was fully seated. Aramis heard a moan and a gasp off to the side, but he ignored it. It was not important now. Only Athos mattered right now and he deserved his undivided attention. 

"Please..." Athos ground out again when Aramis failed to move after burying himself to the hilt inside of him. He was starting to shake, the feel of Aramis like this coupled with the way the man was staring down at him, as if he'd suddenly found God in Athos' eyes, was almost more than he could take. 

With his eyes locked on Athos' own, Aramis pulled back and thrust forward, watching his lover for any sign of discomfort. When he saw now, he leaned down and kissed him briefly, then set about giving him what he wanted, what they both wanted. 

“Yes!” Athos cried out when Aramis began fucking him in earnest. His whole body felt like it was on fire as Aramis took him. His cock had grown hard again and it was leaking against his belly. 

“Wrap your legs around me,” Aramis told him as he shoved in deeply. He ground their pelvises together and was pleased to feel Athos’ hardness pressing into his belly. He had meant what he said about making his lover spend more than once and it looked like Athos was well on his way to doing just that.

Athos quickly did as Aramis said, letting go of his legs and wrapping them around the other man. His hands now free, he grabbed Aramis by the arms, holding him in every way that he possibly could. If he could, he would wrap Aramis up tight in his arms and never let him go. That or curl up inside of the man, safe and protected and loved.

“So good,” Aramis gasped as he began to thrust into Athos faster and faster. He knew he would not last much longer and wanted Athos to spend first. “Can you spend for me like this, my love? Can you spend for me without even a hand upon you?”

“Yes,” Athos moaned, rolling his head back and forth. “Anything… anything for you.”

“Then do it,” Aramis told him. “Spend for me and I will fill you with my seed.”

“Aramis,” Athos groaned. His words were still wreaking havoc with his senses, making every touch feel so much stronger. He could feel his bollocks drawing up and simply gave himself over to it. He knew Aramis would be there to catch him when he fell.

“Oh,” Aramis moaned. He saw the exact moment when Athos gave in on his face. It made his own bollocks tighten dangerously to see his lover so lost to passion and know he was the cause of it. Dimly, he heard a gasp and realized that d’Artagnan had found his release. He knew Porthos was likely not far behind. They, however, were not his concern and he focused his attention on Athos once more.

“Going to… going to spend,” Athos warned him, though he doubted if Aramis needed to be told. A moment later, he felt Aramis grind down against him again and he could not hold back. With Aramis’ name on his lips, he began to spend, streaking his belly and chest with his seed as Aramis continued to fuck him.

Aramis felt Athos’ body clamp down on him as the man began to spend and had to bite his lip to keep from spending himself. Somehow, he managed to keep going, fucking his lover through his release, until he was a wrung out mess beneath him. Only then did Aramis let go of his control and allow himself to find his own release.

A few more stuttering thrusts was all it took. Aramis thrust forward hard, burying himself as deeply inside of Athos as he could. He held himself there as his cock began to pulse, pumping his seed into his lover’s pliant body again and again.

When it was over, Aramis was all but collapsed on top of Athos, panting as his heart thundered in his chest. Athos lay lax beneath him, as if he did not have the energy to so much as move. Aramis couldn’t blame him as he struggled to get his body back under control enough to move off of the man. 

He started when he felt hands grip his shoulders then relaxed when he realized it was Porthos. “Let me help you,” Porthos said softly as he carefully moved Aramis off of Athos. A moment later, d’Artagnan sat down next to him, damp rag in hand. He handed one to Porthos and used the other to gently wipe Athos clean. Once the pair were seen to, Porthos and d’Artagnan maneuvered them into the center of the bed then lay down on either side of them. A few minutes later, all four were asleep.

Aramis was rather surprised the next morning to find himself the first one awake. Normally, d’Artagnan was always the first one of them up, followed quickly by Athos. He supposed that their return to the city had taken a great deal out of all of them, not just him. He admonished himself silently for not considering how difficult this might be on the others. He had been so wrapped up in his own fears about returning that he had failed to take theirs into consideration. He would make sure not to do so again.

He thought about trying to extricate himself from the bed but knew he would only end up waking the others. If they were still asleep the they obviously needed the rest. He would not be the one to disturb it. Besides, it was certainly no hardship to lie here, held safe between those he loved most.

“You’re thinkin’ pretty loud this morning, love,” Porthos whispered into his ear as he tightened the arm he had wrapped around Aramis’ waist.

Aramis chuckled and pressed back into the man. “Nothing to worry about, I assure you,” he whispered back. 

“That is good to know,” Athos replied, opening his eyes and smiling softly at Aramis. He felt d’Artagnan stir behind him and knew the remaining member of their group was awake as well.

“I did not mean to wake you all,” Aramis said.

“You didn’t,” D’Artagnan replied from over Athos’ shoulder. 

“It is past time for us to be up anyway,” Athos added. If they were going to resume their duties as Musketeers, then they needed to get used to living on such a schedule again. He feared the long stretch of time spent at the maison had rather spoilt them.

After a bit of maneuvering, the four got out of bed and dressed. D’Artagnan went into the kitchen to begin breakfast, somewhat surprised when the other three followed him. “Something wrong?” he asked as he got to work.

“No,” Athos replied, “but we need to discuss our plans to return to duty. I thought now as good a time as any.”

“Alright,” d’Artagnan said. He was more than capable of cooking and talking at the same time. 

“So,” Athos began once they were all settled at the table. “First off, I feel I should ask again. Do we intend to return to our duties as Musketeers?”

“Yes,” Aramis replied before anyone else could say anything. “We will not be made to run. Being Musketeers means a very great deal to all of us. We will not be driven from it by the likes of Elizabeth Bathory or anyone else.”

“As much as I wish to see you all safe, I will not deny any of you your right to live your life as you wish. That includes returning to duty,” d’Artagnan said carefully. “I will be content wherever we are so long as we are together.”

“I agree with the Whelp about wanting you all safe, but I know myself well enough to know that I wouldn’t be content at the maison. Not in the long run. Soldiering, it’s the only thing I really know besides being a thief. I’m not ready to give that up yet.”

“I am in agreement with Porthos,” Athos put in. “I am afraid I never found the life of a Comte as fulfilling as I have that of a Musketeer.”

“Then it is decided,” Aramis said. “We are returning to duty. The only question that remains is when.”

“I would prefer if we waiting until after the wedding,” d’Artagnan said. “We still need some time to get used to being here again and the Captain has enough on his plate right now without adding us to it.”

“Agreed,” Athos said. “I will speak with the Captain. I am not sure who he has in mind to cover for him after the wedding. If he is of a mind, we may be able to assist in that.”

“I didn’t think about that,” Porthos said. “He’s gonna need someone to run the place for a bit. I’m sure we could work with the recruits or whatever while you took over for the Captain.”

“He may already have someone else in mind,” Athos said. “But I’ll speak to him about it all the same.”

It was after breakfast had been consumed and the kitchen put back to rights that Porthos pulled Athos aside. He made sure neither of the others was anywhere near before speaking. “Thought I’d head over to the market and look into getting that ring made for Aramis. You wanna come with? See about getting something for the Whelp?”

“You are sure you do not mind?” Athos asked again, wanting to make sure Porthos did not object.

“I’m sure,” Porthos grinned. “I think it’s a great idea. Something like that, it’d go a long way to easing those fears of his.”

“One can hope,” Athos said. “Alright, we can tell them we need to run an errand. They will not like it, but I do not think they will protest overly much.”

In the end, Aramis and d’Artagnan didn’t object, though d’Artagnan clearly wanted to. A single glance from Aramis was enough to stem his tongue, however, and he said nothing as the pair prepared to leave. 

“We won’t be gone long,” Athos said, coming up behind d’Artagnan and wrapping his arms around him. He felt the younger man stiffen then relax in his arms.

“Do not feel as though you need to rush. We will be fine.”


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A thousand thanks to Snow_Glory for all of her help with this. It would be much, much worse without her input.

“Thank you,” Aramis said after the door closed behind Athos and Porthos. “I know you wished to say more…”

“It is alright,” d’Artagnan told him. “You were right to tell me to hold my tongue. This transition has been hard enough on us all as it is. We do not need me making it even more difficult.”

“Perhaps. I still know how much it galls you to be told what to do as if you were a child.”

D’Artagnan huffed out a breath and looked away for a moment. Aramis was right. It did gall him to be told what to do as if he were not capable of taking care of himself. And he would die before he allowed anything to happen to Aramis. 

“D’Artagnan?” Aramis queried when his lover remained silent.

“I can understand his caution. I even agree with it. To a certain degree. Ordering us not to leave the bloody house, however, is going too far. What does he think will happen if we set foot outside? Or walk down the lane a bit?”

“I find I must agree with you,” Aramis sighed. “I mean, what harm coud it do to pay a visit to Madam Delacroix’s and pick up fresh herbs.”

“That is an excellent idea,” D’Artagnan beamed as he rose from the kitchen table. 

“D’Artagnan...”

“What harm could it do?” D’Artagnan argued. “She’s two streets over. We’ll be gone less than an hour.”

“I do need the herbs,” Aramis mused. “I did not bring any of mine from the maison and I am out of several of the medicines I make.”

“It’s settled then,” D’Artagnan said happily when Aramis stood. The pair made sure to take their weapons, not foolish enough to go even that short distance unarmed. 

They were both grinning like boys as they made their way to Madame Delacroix’s house. They linked arms as they walked. It was the closest they could come to holding hands in public. Both men kept a careful watch, eyes alert for any sign of trouble but they encountered none as they reached the lady’s abode.

It took less thirty minutes for her to fill Aramis’ order and the pair were quickly on their way again. As d’Artagnan had said, it was less than an hour before they were safely back home again, both men collapsing aginst the kitchen table in a helpless fit of laughter at their antics. 

&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M

“Was there any place you had in mind for the rings?” Athos asked as they neared the market.

“I know a goldsmith. He does good work, charges a fair price,” Porthos said. “And he won’t ask questions.”

“You have spent a lot of time thinking about this,” Athos observed.

“Yeah. I been wanting to do it for a while now. I even know what I want it to look like. I been saving up for it and, like I said, he charges a fair rate.”

“I am sure between us we will have no problem affording them,” Athos said. 

“You know what you want for the Whelp?” Porthos asked. 

“I have an idea,” Athos said. “It will, however, depend on the ability of the smith.”

“Trust me, brother, you won’t be disappointed” Porthos told him then chuckled. “You really should have seen your boy last night. He was all but coming undone just from watching you and Aramis together.”

“You two enjoyed the, um, show?” Athos asked. He could not stop himself from blushing at the thought of his brothers watching Aramis take him apart.

“Very much,” Porthos said. “And it wasn’t even so much what he was doing to you as what he was saying. Me and the Whelp, we could hear everything he said to you. Damn near made me spend in my smalls.”

“You do not mind what he said to me?” Athos asked him, a sudden bout of uncertainty overtaking him.

“Never,” Porthos vowed. “I will never begrudge what the pair of you feel for each other. And hearing Aramis express it so boldly was amazing to behold. He loves you in a way he loves no other, not even me, and I would not change that for anything.”

“Thank you, brother,” Athos said, overcome for a moment by the sincerity in Porthos’ words. He had not truly been worried but his family was not something he would take for granted. He would show the care with them that they deserved.

“Bah,” Porthos said, shaking his head that Athos for thanking him for such a thing. “And before you start to worry yourself, the Whelp was as taken by it as I was. You are precious to us, Athos. To see you treated as such does all our hearts good.”

The conversation lagged as they made their way through the market. The artisan Porthos had spoken of had a shop near the south end of the market square. The foot traffic was less in this area and when they entered the shop they found it empty save for the proprietor.

“Hugo!” Porthos called out upon seeing the man.

“Ah Porthos, welcome my friend,” the man behind the counter called back, waving the pair into the shop fully. 

“This is my brother, Athos,” Porthos said, introducing the pair. “Athos, this is Hugo, the best goldsmith in all of Paris.”

“And now I know you must want something,” Hugo laughed. “Tell me what brings you to my humble shop today.”

“We need to get some rings commissioned,” Porthos said. He saw Hugo glance toward Athos and shook his head. “They’re not for us. They’re for our partners.”

“And by partners I assume you are not referring to a pair of lasses,” Hugo said carefully. He knew Porthos would not hold such talk against him but he was not sure of his comrade.

“Just so,” Athos replied. “Both their hands are similar in size to my own. D’Artagnan’s is perhaps a touch larger.”

“Alright,” Hugo said. “That’ll make sizing them easier. Anything in particular you had in mind? If they are Musketeers like you, you probably don’t want anything too flashy.”

“Or too delicate,” Porthos said. “It needs to be sturdy enough to hold up.”

“In that case, I’d recommend silver over gold,” Hugo advised. “It’s a lot sturdier and it won’t put as big of a dent in your purse either.”

“I am not overly concerned about the cost,” Athos said, “but I tend to agree. Besides, gold might draw more attention than would be prudent.”

“Aye,” Hugo nodded. “A man can’t be too careful. Now, is there anything in particular you want on them? An inscription, perhaps?”

“I want something simple,” Porthos said. “Like a plain silver band with crosses etched around it.” He had thought about this for so long and had finally settled on something that he knew would mean a great deal to Aramis. Besides which, everyone knew of Aramis’ devotion to his God. Anyone seeing it would likely think it only an offshoot of his ever-deepening faith.

“That’s easy enough,” Hugo said. “The silver bands are over here. See if you like any of them. If not, I can make something custom for you.”

With a nod, Porthos went over to look at the rings, leaving Athos with Hugo. Hugo took in the way the man held himself, confident and defiant at once. Coupled with his earlier comment about money and Hugo realized there was more to this man than simply being a Musketeer.

“Did you have something particular in mind as well, Monsieur Athos?” 

“Actually, yes,” Athos replied. He reached into his doublet and pulled out a folded paper. Spreading it open, he laid it on the counter. “This is the de la Fere family crest,” he said. 

“Hm. You’ll lose a bit of the fine detail sizing it down to fit on a ring, but it will still be recognizable,” Hugo said after examining the paper carefully.

“I expected as much,” Athos said. 

“The wider the ring the more detail I’ll be able to incude. Why don’t you look the bands over with Porthos. See if any of them are to your liking. I think I have a few that would be wide enough to do this justice.”

“How long will it take to have them ready?” Athos asked as he joined Porthos and began pouring over the silver bands on display.

“If you go with one of the bands I already have made, three, four days maybe. If I have to craft the band as well, I’d estimate a week, maybe a little longer,” Hugo shrugged. “Porthos’ isn’t as detailed so I could have it ready sooner if need be.”

“No, we want them together,” Porthos said. 

“In that case, call it four days to a week.”

“That should be fine,” Athos replied.

The walk back home was a brisk one. Both of them had found bands that suited them in the ones Hugo had on hand. Hugo had assured them that he would have the rings ready in no mor than four days and they left the shop near giddy with anticipation.

As they neared their home, they passed Madame Delacroix, the lady Aramis often went to for herbs and such. They greeted her warmly, knowing how much Aramis cared for the aging widow. “Good afternoon, Madame,” Athos said with a bow.

“Good day, gentlemen,” she smiled back. These men were always so polite. Aramis certainly chose his friends well.

“I realize now I should have asked Aramis if he needed anything before we left this morning,” Athos said. “I believe he is out of several of your herbs.”

“No worries,” she tutted. “He and his young friend stopped by an hour or so ago. I was able to get him most of what he needed. I told him I should have the rest in a week or two if the weather holds.”

“Aramis and d’Artagnan came by your home? Today?” Athos asked, his voice suddenly low and urgent.

“Yes,” she nodded. “I offered to make them tea but they said they needed to be on their way. Poor dear. Whatever happened to his face must have been ghastly.”

“Thank you, Madame,” Athos said by rote. “Please excuse us, we must get home.”

They stalked toward the house, intent on one thing – getting home. Athos was more angry than he had been in a very long time, his hands balled into tight fists. He could not believe the pair of them had disobeyed a direct order. When he got through with d’Artagnan the boy would think twice before doing something so utterly disrespectful again.

Marching along beside Athos, Porthos could not help but start to worry. He was angry as well but Athos appeared to be enraged. Porthos knew that would not bode well for either of their lovers, but especially for d’Artagnan. 

“Athos,” Porthos called softly, hoping to pull the man back from the rage that was threatening to consume him.

“What?” Athos snapped.

“They did not do this to spite you,” Porthos said.

“Did they not?” Athos challenged. “For I think that is exactly what they did. Or at least what d’Artagnan did. Have no fear, brother. I know who is to blame for this. Aramis would never have done something so foolish on his own.”

“Perhaps,” Porthos sighed. “But he is young and head-strong.”

“He will learn obedience if I have to beat it into him,” Athos snarled.

“Just... do not let your anger cause you to forget your love for him,” Porthos advised.

Athos had to stop outside the front door and breathe deeply for a few minutes before going inside. He was barely able to think past the rage that gripped him and knew he needed to calm down a bit before facing the pair. 

Entering the house, they found the kitchen empty. That only served to make Athos angrier and he growled as he stalked toward the sitting room. Luckily for them, the pair were sitting on the sofa when Athos and Porthos came storming into the room. Athos actually paused, having expected the room to be empty and the pair off galavanting about Paris. Seeing them here, now, brought him up short.

“What’s wrong?” d’Artagnan asked as he took in the twin looks of anger on his brothers’ faces.

For his part, Aramis swallowed thickly and paled. He had a very good idea of just what had the pair in such a snit and he could not blame them. Not truly. He and d’Artagnan had agreed to their conditions, had even seen the necessity of them. Then at the first chance, they had willfully disobeyed them, blithely ignoring their brothers’ concerns for no other reason than foolish pride.

“Care to tell me where you were today?” Athos asked, not bothering to beat around the bush. 

D’Artagnan drew back, his eyes widening at the anger in Athos’ words. He cast a glance at Aramis and saw how pale he had become. They had not meant to make him so angry and d’Artagnan was unsure what to do to calm the man.

“We went out to get herbs for Aramis’ medicines,” d’Artagnan admitted. “It... it was my idea.”

“You think I don’t know that?” Athos snarled as he grabbed d’Artagnan by the back of the neck and jerked him up from the sofa. “Aramis would never be so disrespectful if you had not egged him on.”

Athos gave him a shake, the fear he saw on his face only fueling the rage within him. “You think you know everything. You think you know better than anyone else. You behaved as a spoiled brat. I should put you over my knee. Perhaps then you would learn the meaning of respect.”

The color immediately bled from d’Artagnan’s face at Athos’ words as the nightmare from weeks ago came roaring back. “No,” he said shaking his head as best he could in Athos’ punishing grip. He pushed feebly at Athos’ chest, his strength having deserted him in face of his nightmare. “Please, no. I’m sorry, Sir. I’m sorry. Please don’t... Please...”

Athos’ grip on his neck tightened as his own memories of that horrible nightmare came rushing back in the face of d’Artagnan’s pleas. His words were eerily similar to those he had uttered in the dream, when he had begged him to stop beating him. Gasping, he released d’Artagnan and took a staggering step backward.

“Athos?” Porthos called, rushing to his brother and grabbing him before he could fall. He felt Athos’ legs go weak beneath him and quickly guided him to the chair. Sitting him down, he glanced across at Aramis and saw he had pulled d’Artagnan into his arms and was attepting to soothe the distraught man. 

“What the hell is going on?” Porthos asked, looking back and forth between the pair. He knew Athos had been angry and he himself had been taken aback by his words, but the Whelp’s reaction was somehow more than that.

“I have no idea,” Aramis said helplessly. He, too, found d’Artagnan’s outburst troubling and knew there had to be more to it than simply Athos’ angry rant.

“I’m sorry,” d’Artagnan whispered as he clung tight to Aramis’ shirt. “It just... the dream... I-It reminded me...”

Athos looked up sharply at the mention of a dream. He started at d’Artagnan, feeling sick inside at the fear he saw on the younger man’s face, knowing he was the cause of it. How dare he threaten such a thing, especially to d’Artagnan? He would sooner die than raise his hand to him in anger, but that was what he had threatened to do and d’Artagnan had believed him.

“What dream, love?” Aramis asked. He was relieved that d’Artagnan had calmed enough to speak. Maybe they could get to the bottom of all of ths.

“Before,” d’Artagnan said with a shudder. “When Athos and I came to talk to Constance and we had the run-in with Champney. I... I made him angry then, too. And I dreamed... I dreamed...”

“You dreampt that I beat you,” Athos put in for him, that same dream all too clear in his memory, as well. “I stripped you and held you down and beat you until you begged for mercy.”

“Athos?” d’Artagnan gasped, his eyes shifting to the other man. He could see the pain on his face as well as the guilt as he hunched in on himself. Even so, something here wasn’t right. “I never told you what I dreamed of that night.”

“Nor I you,” Athos said. 

“You both had the same dream?” Aramis asked, panicked. That had only happened one time before and he shuddered to think of the ramifications of such an occurrence again.

“We did?” d’Artagnan asked. He looked at Athos and saw the truth in his eyes. 

“So it would seem,” Athos stated. 

“Have there been any others?” Aramis demanded.

“Not that I am aware of,” Athos said. “At least not where I am concerned. That is the only nightmare I have had of late.”

“My God,” Aramis whispered. “This can’t be happening. Not again. Please, God, not again.”

“Aramis, hey,” Porthos said as he crossed the room to his lover. He carefully pulled d’Artagnan from his arms and pushed him toward Athos then pulled Aramis in close. “It’ll be okay. Whatever it is, it’ll be okay.”

“If she is back...”

“She isn’t,” Porthos said sternly. “Whelp cut her fucking head off. She isn’t coming back, love.”

“You’re right,” Aramis said, unsure who he was trying to convince more. “I know you are right. I’m sorry.”

“No need to apologize,” Porthos told him then turned back to Athos. “Will you two be okay for a little bit? I think Aramis could use a few minutes to calm down.”

“Of course,” Athos said at once. “We will be fine. I... I will not hurt him.”

“Wasn’t worried about that, brother,” Porthos said. “We know you’d never do anything to hurt him, dream or no dream. If you need us to stay...“

“No,” d’Artagnan said far more confidently than he felt. “Take care of Aramis. We will be fine.”

Both men watched as Porthos led Aramis from the room. Suddenly alone together, they felt anxious. Athos looked at d’Artagnan and had to look away, the fear in the man’s eyes more than he could stand. He could not believe he had lost his temper as he had. He had never in his life raised a hand to a lover in anger, that he had even threatened such a thing made him feel sick inside. 

“I am sorry,” d’Artagnan said softly, his voice weighed down with guilt. “We should not have disobeyed you. I should not have done so and I certainly should not have encouraged Aramis to. I will accept whatever punishment you deem fit. I only ask that you do not take your displeasure out on Aramis. He would never have disobeyed if not for me.”

“d’Artagnan,” Athos began, aghast that the young man thought he still wished to punish him in some way. Yes, he was still a bit angry and rightly so, he felt. That did not mean he wanted to punish either of them. 

Taking a deep breath, d’Artagnan moved to stand in front of Athos then sank to his kness. “Please, Sir,” he began, bowing his head submissively so he would not be forced to meet Athos’ eyes. “Please let me make amends. I did not mean to act so disrespectfully toward you. I swear, I did not. I... I was not really thinking. I... No, that is not true. I was thinking. I thought your restrictions unnecessary. I did not like being controlled in such a manner so I disobeyed to soothe my pride.”

“d’Artagnan,” Athos began again, unsure what to say in the face of his lover’s admission. It was clear that he was deeply upset by what he had done. Athos wondered how much of that was still due to his memories of their shared dream. He found he did not much care for the idea of d’Artagnan so afraid of his retribution as to be driven to his very knees.

“I have no words to tell you how ashamed I am...”

“Stop,” Athos said sternly, unable to listen to his pained words any longer. “Please, stop. I am not angry with you. Not any more. I am not happy that you disregarded our concerns but I can understand why you did.”

“I do not deserve such leniency,” d’Artagnan said his voice still quiet and subdued. He felt horrible for what he had done, worse still that he had drug Aramis into it with him. What if something had happened? What if they had run into Champney? 

“Of course you do,” Athos said, his voice equally soft in the face of his lover’s pain. He reached out and cupped d’Artagnan’s cheek. He tried not to react when the younger man flinched, telling himself it was likely still the dream causing him to react so. Still, it hurt to see d’Artagnan fearful of him and he struggled to come up with some way to get through to the younger man. 

D’Artagnan let out a sound that was dangerously close to a sob and Athos slid his hand around to the back of his neck again. This time, he used his grip to gently pull the young man up from his knees and into his arms. Pressing d’Artagnan’s head to his shoulder, he held him as he whispered soothingly into his ear.

“It’s alright,” Athos whispered. “It was just a dream. You know I would never hurt you like that. I would sooner die than raise a hand to you in such a vile manner.”

“Deserve it,” d’Artagnan choked out. A moment later he laughed darkly as he gripped onto Athos’ doublet and held him. “Not like I haven’t done the same to Aramis more than once.”

“That is not the same and you know it.”

“Do I? How does it differ? I raise my hand to him to punish him for his actions.”

“Yes, you do,” Athos said, struggling to stay calm. D’Artagnan’s words were starting to really worry him. “But you do not do so in anger. You have never lost your temper with him. And you have never offered him more _punishment_ than he himself felt he deserved.”

“So how much punishment do I deserve?” d’Artagnan asked. 

“None,” Athos said firmly. He could feel fine tremors running through the other man and it made him ache inside. He had done this. He had actually frightened his lover. Even his wife had not managed to make him feel like this much of a monster before.

Pulling back slightly, Athos took d’Artagnan’s chin in hand and tipped his head up, forcing him to look at him. “None,” he said again and slowly brought his mouth to the other man’s. He kissed him slowly, being as gentle as he knew how. He was rewarded a moment later when d’Artagnan moaned into his mouth and began kissing him back.

When they broke the kiss, Athos saw the tell-tale wetness in d’Artagnan’s eyes. He wiped at them with his thumb, chasing the tears away before they could fall. “Twas but a dream,” he said as he continued to hold him. “A horrible dream that will never come to pass.”

“Are you certain of that?” d’Artagnan asked, his apprehension clear. “I know I make you angry at times. Are you sure you have no desire to put me over your knee and..”

“No,” Athos said as resolutely as he could. “No, d’Artagnan, I have no desire to ever do that. I do not wish to be your master. I do not mind to act the part, but to truly do so... no.”

“I do not know why it upset me so,” d’Artagnan said after a moment. “It is nothing more than I do to Ara-“

“It is completely different,” Athos insisted. “As I said before, you discipline Aramis only at his request. You would never do so against his will. You think I do not remember what we dreampt of? I do. I remember holding you down, forcing you to endure my abuse while you begged me to stop.”

“Twas a dream,” d’Artagnan said, echoing Athos’ words from earlier. “It did not happen. You would never do such a thing to me. I know this.”

“Are you sure?” Athos pressed. “For you were not a moment ago. A moment ago you thought me capable of-of-of...”

“No, Athos, no,” d’Artagnan said. It was his turn now to grab onto Athos and hold him. “It was my memories of that nightmare. I did not really believe you capable of such a thing. I know you would never hurt me. You love me too much.”

“I do,” Athos told him. “I truly do. I love you more than life, d’Artagnan.”

“I know. I know.”

&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M

Porthos drew Aramis into the spare bedroom and closed the door. He pressed him down onto the bed and sat down beside him. Turning to face him, he pulled Aramis into his arms. “Listen to me,” he whispered urgently. “She is not back. Do you hear me? That devil-woman is dead. She can’t hurt you ever again.”

“What else could explain them having the exact same dream?” Aramis whispered back, fear robbing his voice of all strength. 

“I don’t know,” Porthos admitted. “But as you often tell me, there are many things that man is not privy to. But even if it is something... something evil, it will not get its hands on you. We won’t let it.”

“And if whatever it is sets its sights on one of you?”

“Then we shall fight it. But we cannot afford to panic. We do not even know if there is anything to worry about yet. We shall be on our guard, all of us.”

“I could not bear to lose you,” Aramis said, voicing the worst of his fears. “Not any of you really, but...”

“But?”

“Not you, Porthos,” Aramis said, that horrible time at the ruins flashing through his mind. Part of him was ashamed of his admission, but a much larger part refused to be ashamed of what he felt for Porthos in any way. 

“Aramis,” Porthos said, squeezing his lover to him even more. “Do you honestly believe it any different for me? Did I not stand by and simply watch as d’Artagnan tried to trade himself for you, knowing it would be the end of him? I love him and Athos both more than I can say but you... you are my heart.”

Aramis settled somewhat then, reassured by his lover’s words. They would be on guard. They would be careful. They would not take chances. That thought brought him up short as he remembered what had started all of this.

“I’m sorry,” Aramis said quietly. He realized now how foolish the pair of them had been and how lucky they were that nothing had happened. “We should never have gone out today. We will not act so irresponsibly again.”

“Good,” Porthos said. “Because me and Athos can’t watch you two all the time. We have to know we can trust you. I don’t mean to treat you like a child but I’ll be damned if I lose you because you got restless.”

“It wasn’t that.”

“No?” Porthos challenged. “So it was nothing more than your wounded pride that had you going against Athos’ direct orders, endangering yourself?”

Aramis looked down then, shamed by the reproach in Porthos’ voice. He deserved it though. He deserved a great deal more, in truth, but he knew Porthos would never agree. He did not think d’Artagnan would, either. The boy had taken the blame for their shenanigans entirely. He would never see fit to punish him over it.

“You get it now?” Porthos asked much gentler this time. 

“I am so sorry,” Aramis said again. “I don’t even know why we did it, in truth, other than we felt it was unnecessary to be so restricted.”

“Do you still feel it unnecessary?”

“No,” Aramis shuddered. 

“That’s good then,” Porthos said, relieved. From Aramis’ reaction, he doubted if he would be sneaking off again any time soon. Still, he did not think he or Athos would be leaving the pair on their own again for a very long time.

&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M

When Porthos led Aramis back out to the sitting room they found Athos and d’Artagnan on the sofa together. D’Artagnan lay against Athos, his head pillowed on his chest. Athos had stripped down to just his shirt and breeches, lending an air of intimacy to the pair.

D’Artagnan sat up when they came in, making room for the pair to join them. He could see that Aramis was still upset though Porthos had managed to calm him. He hoped Porthos had not taken him to task for their actions today. It was not Aramis’ fault and the man had enough on him right now without Porthos being upset with him.

“Porthos,” d’Artagnan began hesitantly. He glanced at the man and did not miss the flash of irritation in his eyes. “I wish to apologize for today. I should never have convinced Aramis to go against Athos’ wishes and venture out. Please don’t be angry with him.”

“Aramis is a grown man, Whelp,” Porthos said. “He could have said no. He didn’t and that’s on him. It’s done and over with, though. Just make sure it doesn’t happen again. Like I told him, we can’t watch the two of you around the clock. We have to be able to trust you and right now, I’m not so sure I do.”

D’Artagnan jerked as if slapped, hunching in on himself at Porthos’ harsh words. He knew they were merited. He deserved every one of them and then some for endangering Aramis today. He tried to speak, to ask Porthos how he might begin to make amends for what he had done, but he could not get the words out. 

Aramis had cringed at Porthos’ harsh words as well. He longed to reach out and comfort the younger man but didn’t dare. He did not want to do anything to further anger their brothers. It looked like d’Artagnan was perilously close to having endured all he could take as it was.

“It will be alright,” Athos said after long mintes of strained silence. He had expected Aramis to go to the man and was surprised that he held himself back. He could see how badly he wanted to and was not sure why he did not.

“Yes, Sir,” d’Artagnan said softly, pulling in on himself a bit more and staring at the floor. 

“Whelp?” Porthos called, frowning. 

“I’m sorry,” d’Artagnan finally managed to say. “Please... what can I do? How can I make this right again?”

“Hey now,” Porthos said softly. “Like Athos said, it’ll be okay. You two understand now. You won’t do something like this again.”

“No, Sir,” d’Artagnan said, still unable to meet any of their eyes.

“Not Sir,” Porthos said gently. “There’s no need for that.”

“Aramis, is there a reason you are holding yourself back from him?” Athos asked, unable to keep quiet about it any longer. 

Aramis swallowed thickly and looked back and forth between Athos and Porthos. “I did not know if it was permissable,” he tried to explain. “I did not want to do anything that might make things worse.”

“Permissable?” Porthos repeated. “Love, you don’t need our bloody _permission_ to go to him.”

“Aramis, you do not truly think you need our permission in this, do you?” Athos asked.

Aramis shrugged, unsure what to say. He knew, logically, that he did not, but he was having difficulty being logical at the moment. All he knew was that they had erred, greatly, and they would have to pay the price for that.

“Listen to me, the both of you,” Athos said. “We are upset with your recklessness today. We are not angry at either of you. Not any more. You need fear no further censure from us. Please, d’Artagnan, you told me you did not believe I would hurt you. However, that is not how you are acting.”

“But we deserve your censure,” Aramis said in a pained voice. “We deserve your... your punishment.”

“I think you’re punishing yourself more than enough right now,” Porthos said.

“I am not going to punish either one of you,” Athos added. “I am not a monster no matter what that damnable dream made me out to be.”

“You could never be a monster,” d’Artagnan said at once. “But I am inclined to agree with Aramis in this. What we did...”

“Was a mistake,” Athos interrupted. “Nothing more. No one was hurt. And you will not make this mistake again.”

“Yes, Sir,” d’Artagnan answered.

“Please, love,” Athos beseeched. “I do not think I can stand to hear you call me Sir right now.”

“Athos,” d’Artagnan said, looking up at him at last. “You are right, we will not make this mistake again. We are only grateful that you can so readily forgive us for it.”

“We will always forgive you. Always.”

&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M

Sitting around their kitchen table the next morning, Aramis and d’Artagnan were both still somewhat subdued. It was not to the same degree as the night before which was a relief to Athos. At least neither of them were referring to him and Porthos as “Sir”, which was another step in the right direction.

“What is it?” Porthos asked, eying Aramis. He could tell the man had something on his mind but was hesitating.

Aramis looked at Porthos then over at Athos. He knew all he needed to do was make his wishes known, that his brothers would not refuse him, but it was still difficult. To have to ask to be escorted left him feeling humiliated, yet there was little he could do about it.

“I would very much like to visit Father Michel at Saint-Severin,” Aramis said, looking down as he flushed. “Would one of you mind escorting me there?”

“We would either of us be happy to go with you,” Porthos replied. He was careful in his wording, not wanting to make Aramis feel worse. 

“Thank you,” Aramis said. “Whenever it is convenient for you then.”

“We can leave shortly if you wish,” Athos said. He, like Porthos, did not miss the way Aramis flushed and looked away from them. He could understand. He would not do well having to ask for such a thing himself. “I would like to stop by the garrison and speak with the Captain about our pending return as well.”

“Me and the Whelp’ll be fine here,” Porthos nodded. “We might stop by and see Constance while you’re out. I haven’t gotten to see her yet.”

“An excellent idea,” Athos said enthusiastically, trying to lighten the others’ moods. “I’m sure she’d love to see you both.”

They left soon after, with Athos and Aramis heading toward the church while d’Artagnan and Porthos headed toward the Captain’s house. D’Artagnan led the way, having been there twice now. Both men kept their eyes open, not only for any trouble directed their way but also for any sign of the ones harrassing Constance. She had told Athos and Aramis that it was nothing to be concerned with but it still did not sit well with any of them. 

Even though they were not officially back, both men had worn their pauldrons identifying them as Musketeers. The last thing they wanted was to give the local gossip-mongers any fresh ammunition and two strange men dropping by would certainly do that. Two of Treville’s own Musketeers, however, was a different story altogether.

While their brothers paid a visit to Constance, Aramis and Athos headed to Saint-Severin. Athos took the long route, the one that did not come anywhere near the market square. The last thing they needed right now was a run-in with Champney. 

“You do realize that the market is not the only place where I have encountered them,” Aramis said, recognizing right away what Athos was doing.

“I know,” Athos said with a dip of his head. “But it is one of the places where you encountered them at least somewhat consistently. I would prefer to avoid that for now.”

“Very well,” Aramis replied, in agreement with Athos about that much. Besides, he had no wish for any of his brothers to draw their heinous attention. God forbid Pierre should attempt to turn his sadism on one of them.

They arrived at the church a short time later without incident. Athos breathed a sigh of relief when they walked in, the heavy doors closing behind them. The Champneys were not the only reason Athos had wanted to avoid the market. So far, Aramis had only had one negative encounter in regards to the scars on his face. He had no wish to add to that if it could be helped. He knew it was impossible really, but he would delay such an encounter for as long as possible.

“Aramis,” Father Michel called out as he made his way toward them from the front of the church.

Aramis grinned and embraced Michel warmly. Athos smiled softly at the pair, thankful all over again that Michel had not been taken from them, from Aramis. He knew the priest’s death would have been a wound for his brother that even time would not have been able to heal. Fortunately, such a fate had not befallen the man and Aramis had not had yet another person he loved torn from him.

Wanting to give the pair some privacy, Athos moved to one of the nearby pews and sat down. He would be able to see the door, knowing who neared while still remaining unobtrusive. He had a good idea what it was Aramis wanted to talk to Father Michel about but he still wished to give Aramis the privacy to speak freely without worry about how he might take his words.

With a nod to Athos, Michel led Aramis toward the front of the church. They sat down together, Michel clasping Aramis’ hands tightly in his own. “My goodness it is good to see you again,” Michel beamed. “I must say, you look much better than you did the last time I saw you.”

Aramis ducked his head at that, all too aware of the way he looked. “Yes, well, I am feeling much stronger,” he said. “And it is good to see you, too, my friend.”

“So are you back in Paris or are you just visiting?” Michel asked.

“We have returned,” Aramis told him. “We arrived back a few days ago. It has been a bit of an adjustment for us. Well, for me at any rate. We are coping, though.”

“You are troubled,” Michel said, eying him knowingly. 

“Yes, Father.”

“Talk to me, my son. Let me help you with this burden if I can.”

Swallowing thickly, Aramis told him about the dream Athos and d’Artagnan shared. “The only other time something like this has happened was when... when...”

“Aramis?” Michel called, squeezing his hands.

“The only other time was with Bathory,” Aramis said. 

“Surely you do not think...”

“What else could it be?” Aramis asked, unable to hold back his fear. “What else could explain them having the exact same dream?”

“I do not know,” Michel said. “But what I do know is that Bathory is dead. Your brothers saw to that.”

“So it is something else then,” Aramis said, unsure if that was actually better or somehow worse.

“It would seem so, yes,” Michel said. “I know you do not believe in coincidence and, in this case, neither do I. Something is at work here but we do not know if that something is evil. Perhaps it was merely God’s way of warning your brothers.”

“Warning them about what?” Aramis frowned.

“About the danger of forgetting oneself, of losing your temper and doing damage that cannot be undone,” Michel offered. 

“I am sorry, Michel,” Aramis shook his head. “As much as I would like to believe that, it doesn’t feel right.”

“Hm. Perhaps you are right,” Michel said. “Until we know more, all we can do is be diligent and trust in God to protect us.”

“I suppose you are right,” Aramis said reluctantly.

“Aramis, would you like me to come and bless the house?” Michel asked carefully. “Assuming, of course, that your brothers would not object.”

“Oh would you?” Aramis asked. There was an edge of desperation in his voice showing just how worried he truly was. 

“I would be glad to,” Michel told him. “Now, is there anything else you would like to talk about? Or we could simply pray together for a while.”

By the time they left the church, after Athos having assured Michel that they would all welcome any blessing, it was nearly noon. “I did not mean to take so long,” Aramis apologized. 

“It was no trouble,” Athos said. “I do not often find myself in a church but I can appreciate one when I do.”

“Thank you, brother,” Aramis said.

Being the middle of the day, the garrison was about as quiet as it ever got. Aramis did not miss the furtive glances and outright stares of his fellow Musketeers as they made their way to Treville’s office. He felt Athos tense beside him at the brazeness of some of the younger recruits and gripped his arm, giving it a brief squeeze before releasing him once more. 

“They need to be taught some bloody manners,” Athos snarled under his breath as they headed up the stairs to see the Captain.

At the top of the landing they stopped and knocked sharply on the Captain’s door. The familiar bark of enter made both men smile though they were careful to school their features before actually going in. 

“Athos, Aramis, what brings you two here today?” Treville asked as he laid aside the papers he had been going over. 

“We were visiting Father Michel and thought we’d stop by,” Athos said. 

Treville nodded and stood, leading the pair over to the table in his office. “Sit down, you two,” he said as he picked up a bottle of wine and glasses for them.

“You wanted to know when we would like to come back,” Athos said, getting straight to the point. 

“Yes,” Treville said. “The place really hasn’t been the same without you lot around.”

Aramis grinned widely at that, amusement lighting his eyes. He managed to refrain from saying anything, if only barely. It felt good to be back here, even with the extra attention his visage drew. He knew most of it was merely surprise on their parts. They were all of them soldiers and injuries were commonplace.

Treville sighed at the look of mischief in Aramis’ eyes but didn’t say anything. It was too good to see the man happy and smiling to do anything to dim that. Besides, it really had been far too quiet around here without them.

“Not to presume,” Athos began, “but I was thinking just after the wedding. I know you will need someone to take over for you while you are away. Unless, of course, you already have someone, in which case...”

“Athos,” Treville interrupted smiling himself now. “I did have someone in mind, but only because I was not sure if you men would be back by then. I would much prefer turning the garrison over to you in my absence.”

“Thank you, Sir,” Athos said, a bit surprised by Treville’s trust in him. They had been gone a long time. It would be understandable for the Captain to be somewhat wary of their return.

“You will need to come round a bit before then, just so I can bring you up to date, introduce you to the new recruits, that sort of thing,” Treville said.

“That’s fine,” Athos agreed. “Aramis or d’Artagnan will be accompanying me, though.”

“Yes, Porthos mentioned that you did not think it prudent to go about alone at the moment. I will need to know something of that, you realize.”

“It is because of me,” Aramis said softly, ashamed at having to tell Treville of this.

“It is no secret that we have all made enemies over time,” Athos said. “Aramis is no exception. One of his had been making his life somewhat difficult whenever he is in Paris and they manage to catch him unaccompanied. We mean to remedy that situation but it is somewhat delicate and may take some time. In the interim, we request to be assigned together or, at the very least, in pairs.”

Treville sat back and eyed the two men. It was obvious they weren’t telling him everything, chiefly the reason this enemy was plaguing Aramis. It was also obvious from Aramis’ demeanor that he was ashamed of this for some reason. In the end, what it came down to was whether or not he trusted these men enough to allow them their secrets and the answer to that was yes.

“Very well,” Treville said at last. “Porthos also mentioned that you do not think it prudent to pair Aramis and d’Artagnan together. Something the lad did not appear happy with, I might add.” 

“No,” Athos said, frowning slightly. “d’Artagnan has a temper, as you well know. He is also somewhat lacking in self-control at times.”

“And you don’t think Aramis would be able to keep the boy under control on his own?” Treville asked, puzzled. He had seen Aramis take mouthy recruits in hand before. He did not understand why d’Artagnan would be an issue. 

“When it comes to protecting Aramis? No,” Athos said. “Not if the threat is imminent.”

“Are you sure he’s fit to return to duty?” Treville asked worriedly. He saw Aramis stiffen out of the corner of his eye but he ignored it. It was Athos’ thoughts on the matter he wanted now.

“Yes, Sir,” Athos replied. “Once this has been dealt with, he should no longer have an issue. But Captain, understand, we would all of us react the same way. Porthos and I just have more practice at holding ourselves in check.”

“Alright,” Treville said. “I will take your word for it. But he will be your responsibility, Athos.”

“I understand,” Athos replied. 

When the pair came back down from the Captain’s office they were not surprised to find several of their brothers congregated at the bottom of the stairs. None of the younger recruits, those who had so openly stared at Aramis, were anywhere to be seen. Apparently Athos was not the only one who thought they needed to be taught some manners.

“Athos! Aramis!” Claude called out in greeting as the pair descended the stairs. 

Once at the bottom, several of their brothers clapped them on the back or grasped their shoulder. It felt good to be welcomed back into the fold and Aramis in particular basked in it. He had been apprehensive at first due to the scars on his face but other than a quick glance here and there, their brothers paid no attention to them.

“Stop yer worryin’,” one of their fellow Musketeers called out, though it was hard to say which one with the sheer number of them clustered around them. It had not seemed like this many of their brothers had been here when they arrived but they were certainly here now.

Aramis’ hand went to his face unconsciously. He was surprised, however, when a hand took him by the wrist and pulled his arm back down. Even more surprising was the fact that the hand had _not_ belonged to Athos.

“He’s right,” Gustav said as he examined Aramis’ face. “Not like we all don’t have a few scars here and there. Knowing you, it’ll just make the women fawn over you even more.”

Several of the men laughed at that, a few voicing their hearty agreement. The open acceptance from these men loosened some of the bands around Aramis’ heart as his fears were laid to rest. He knew it would not be the same outside of these walls but that was alright. At least here he would have a haven free from the stares and mockery of those who could never understand the sacrifices of a soldier. Or a brother.

When they headed home a few hours later, it was with a noticably lighter step. Athos had no words to express his thanks at their brothers open acceptance. To see Aramis walking so lightly, head held high again, was something he had not expected. Not yet and he found himself smiling helplessly.

“You are happy,” Aramis noted, not missing the somewhat enamored smile Athos wore.

“It is good to see your heart so light,” Athos told him. 

“I guess I was more worried than I thought,” Aramis admitted.

“Understandable,” Athos said. “I imagine Porthos and d’Artagnan will be as pleased with the outcome as I am.”

“Yes,” Aramis grinned. “Perhaps it will help our dear Whelp a bit. He has worried for this almost as much as I have, I think.”

When they got home, they found Porthos and d’Artagnan in the kitchen. D’Artagnan was starting on dinner but stopped when they came in. They took one look at Aramis’ smiling face and broke out into grins of their own.

“I take it things at the garrison went well,” Porthos said as he rose and went to them. He kissed Aramis first then Athos before pulling them both over to the table with him.

“It did,” Athos said. “The Captain agreed to me filling in for him. I’ll need to meet with him a few times beforehand to get caught back up on everything.”

“Good,” d’Artagnan said as he joined them at the table. 

“And how did the rest of your visit go?” Porthos asked anxiously.

“Liberating,” Aramis said, summing everything up with that single word.

“The men seem to think Aramis will be even more irresistable to the women of Paris with his rakish scar,” Athos said, bemused. 

“Of course they do,” Porthos laughed. 

“How was your visit with Constance?” Athos asked.

“Good,” Porthos said. “She seems happy. And she’s fit to burst about the wedding.”

“d’Artagnan, you are rather quiet,” Aramis observed.

“Sorry,” he said, ducking his head sheepishly. “It has been a long time since I have seen you so happy and at ease. I was simply enjoying it.”

&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M

They had just finished clearing away breakfast when a messenger arrived. Luckily, Athos answered the door as the young boy started delivering his message without so much as bothering to find out who he was delivering it to.

“Monsieur Hugo said to tell you that your rings are ready,” the boy said then turned around and scampered off leaving Athos standing in the doorway.

“Who was that?” Aramis asked as Athos closed the door.

“A messenger,” Athos replied. 

“Oh?” Aramis said when Athos offered nothing more. “Something we should know about?”

“No,” Athos said sharply then winced. “Forgive me. No. He was merely letting me know that the errand Porthos and I ran a few days ago is ready to be completed.”

“Ah,” Aramis said, remembering exactly what day Athos was referring to. He looked down at his cup, cradling it in his hands then back up at Athos. He could see a certain pensiveness in Athos’ eyes and frowned. 

“What is it?” Aramis asked when Athos remained silent.

Athos sighed. He did not want to upset Aramis but he refused to lie to him. “Porthos and I need to go out again,” he said reluctantly. “The completion of our errand should not take long, but...”

“But you are reluctant to leave d’Artagnan and I here alone again,” Aramis finished for him.

“Yes,” Athos said honestly. 

“I do not blame you,” Aramis said, ashamed all over again for his reckless actions. “You trusted us and we betrayed that trust.”

“Aramis...” Athos began, unsure what to say. He had not meant to make him feel guilty again. The incident was over and done with, however it had left its mark on them.

“I can only give you my word,” Aramis continued. “I will, of course, understand if that is not good enough any longer.”

“Your word is always good enough,” Athos said at once. “Always, brother.”

“Then I give you my word, we will not disobey your edict again,” Aramis solemnly vowed. “Unless the house is on fire, we shall not leave it.”

“Alright,” Athos relented. “Let me go and find Porthos.”

Porthos, along with d’Artagnan, was in the sitting room. Porthos had come to see who had been at the door and had seen Athos and Aramis having what appeared to be a rather serious conversation. He had backed out of the room then, waiting in the sitting room with d’Artagnan for the pair to join them.

“Who was at the door?” d’Artagnan asked when Athos entered the room.

“A messenger,” Athos said. “It would seem our errand has come to fruition, Porthos. We need only complete the final step.”

“Truly?” Porthos asked, unable to keep from grinning widely at the thought.

“Indeed,” Athos said, smiling back. “Shall we go now?”

Porthos hesitated a moment then as memories of the last time came rushing back. He knew Athos had not forgotten but the man seemed at ease with leaving the pair here alone again. He had to wonder what it was Aramis said to him.

“We will not do it again,” d’Artagnan said softly, understanding the reason for Porthos’ sudden hesitation. 

“We know you will not,” Athos said causing d’Artagnan’s eyes to snap to him in surprise. “We trust you.”

They left the pair sitting on the sofa together, both looking apprehensive to one degree or another. He could not blame them. They knew that this was important, that it would either ensure their brothers trusted them again or do possibly irrepairable damage to said trust. 

“You sure about this, Athos?” Porthos whispered as they left the house.

“I am,” Athos said. He put a bit more conviction into his words than he truly felt sensing that Porthos was still quite ill-at-ease with the idea. “Aramis gave me his word. He will not break it again.”

“Alright,” Porthos said, taking Athos’ word for it as they headed toward the market square. If they moved a bit more quickly than they had the previous time, well, no one would blame them. 

When they entered Hugo’s shop, they found him just finishing up with a customer. Once the young man had left, Hugo called them both over. Reaching behind the counter, he pulled out two small leather pouches. He handed one to each of them then stood back to watch.

Porthos went first, excitedly pouring the ring into the palm of his hand. He drew in a sharp breath when he saw it, stunned. Carefully, he picked it up turning it so he could look all around it. Hugo had done as instructed, engraving crosses all around the band. They were not simple crosses, though. The smith had made them as ornate as the size of the ring would allow. 

“This is beautiful,” Porthos said, his voice touched with awe. “Thank you so much, my friend. It is everything I wanted.”

With the quirk of an eyebrow, Athos opened his own pouch and dumped its contents into his hand. The ring was heavy, solid, and it gleamed in the low light of the shop. He slipped it on his finger, noting that it was just a touch too large for him. It should fit d’Artagnan perfectly. 

Finally, he examined the crest Hugo had engraved into it. He was surprised at the level of detail the man had been able to include. It was a near exact replica of his family crest. Athos found himself swallowing against the sudden lump in his throat.

“Your workmanship is second to none,” Athos told the man as he dropped the ring back into the pouch. A few minutes later, they bid Hugo goodbye and were on their way back home.


	14. Chapter 14

By the time they reached the house, Porthos was almost vibrating with a combination of excitement and nerves. While he could not wait to give Aramis the ring, he was suddenly nervous about it. What if he didn’t like it? What if it was asking too much? 

“Stop worrying,” Athos said. “He will be thrilled at wearing tangible proof of your bond.”

“You’re right,” Porthos sighed. “It’s just... You don’t think it’s too much, do you?”

“No,” Athos told him. “It is not too much. It could never be, not between the two of you.”

“I wish I was as confident about Aramis’ reaction as you are about d’Artagnan’s.”

“If you think I am at all confident about how he might receive this, you are mistaken,” Athos said. “Not that I doubt him or his feelings for me, but after the way things have gone of late, I am unsure if he would welcome such a thing from me.”

“You’re blind if you think he’ll be anything other than overjoyed at wearing your ring,” Porthos told him. “That boy has more love for you more than he knows what to do with.”

Athos felt some of his worry dissipate in the face of Porthos’ surety. He was right. Even when they were at odds, the love they felt for each other was still very much present. The only real concern was that d’Artagnan might not be ready for such a commitment yet. However, there was no way to find out unless he asked and even if he was not ready yet, he could be patient.

Pausing outside the door, both men took a deep breath. Going inside, Athos made sure to lock the door behind them. He had a feeling they would all be otherwise occupied for a time and did not want anything to disturb them. When they walked into the sitting room, they found Aramis and d’Artagnan together on the sofa, Aramis reading quietly to the younger man.

“That didn’t take long,” Aramis said as he laid the book aside.

“We just needed to pick something up,” Porthos said. He went to Aramis and drew him up from the sofa. He kissed him deeply, enjoying the way Aramis seemed to melt in his embrace.

“Did you want the main room?” Athos asked, referring to their bedrooms. 

“Yeah,” Porthos said when he finally pulled back. He took Aramis by the hand and led him from the room leaving Athos and d’Artagnan alone in the sitting room.

“Is something going on?” d’Artagnan asked as Athos came over to sit down beside him.

“You could say that,” Athos hedged, not wanting to give anything away. He felt his earlier nerves start to return and took d’Artagnan’s hand. “Would you accompany me to the other room?”

D’Artagnan looked at Athos, not missing the man’s nervousness. “Of course,” he said, suddenly feeling a bit nervous himself. Athos was not one to show such things, even to them. That he was doing so now was worrisome.

Athos kissed his hand then stood and pull him to his feet. Still holding his hand, he led d’Artagnan up to the second bedroom, closing the door firmly behind them. He had a feeling the other two would end up being rather loud and did not want either of them to be distracted. 

“You seem nervous,” d’Artagnan pointed at when Athos sat down on the side of the bed next to him. 

“I am,” Athos admitted. He took a steadying breath and once more took d’Artagnan’s hand in his own. “I want to tell you some things and I need you to simply listen to me for a bit. Can you do that?”

D’Artagnan nodded, his own nervousness growing. He had no idea what Athos wanted to tell him, but he would listen to whatever it was he wanted to say. Even if he did not really want to hear it. Given recent events, he knew there was a good chance that he might not.

“Do not look so worried, my love,” Athos said, kissing d’Artagnan’s hand again. “It is nothing bad, I promise.”

“Alright,” d’Artagnan managed, still a bit uneasy despite Athos’ assurance. 

“First and foremost, I wish to tell you again that I love you,” Athos began. “I love you more than I love any other. Yes, Aramis may be the heart of our family, but you are precious beyond words to me.”

D’Artagnan had to blink as his eyes began to sting at Athos’ heartfelt words. He knew Athos loved him, he truly did, but to hear it stated so baldly by the man made his heart pound in his chest. He started to open his mouth to tell Athos that his feelings were returned but Athos shook his head and d’Artagnan obediently closed his mouth.

“I know things have been a bit rough between us of late, but that has done nothing to diminish my love for you in any way,” Athos said. He could see how much is words were affecting the other man and was encouraged. 

“Porthos said we were gone to pick something up,” Athos continued. “We were at a goldsmith picking up the commissions we had made.”

“Commissions?” d’Artagnan asked.

Athos reached into his doublet and took out the small pouch. Opening it, he took out the ring and held it out to his lover. “It bears the de la Fere family crest. I would be honored if you would wear it as a sign of our bond, our commitment to each other.”

“You wish me to wear your ring?” d’Artagnan asked, stunned. His chest felt tight, as if he could not breathe. He could not believe that Athos was doing this, that he would want such a commitment between the two of them. Especially after all the trouble he had caused of late.

“I would consider it the greatest of honors,” Athos said seriously. 

“Athos... I don’t know what to say,” d’Artagnan said, his mind awhirl with what all this could mean.

“Say yes,” Athos said. “Or say no, if it is asking too much of you. I will understand if it is. As I said, I know things have been somewhat difficult between us of late. If you do not wish...”

“Of course I do!” d’Artagnan all but shouted, cutting Athos off before he could even finish his sentence. “I just... I don’t see how you could want something like that with me after everything.”

“I love you more than life, d’Artagnan,” Athos said, smiling indulgently at the man. “No amount of friction between us will ever change that. To see my ring on your finger, my familial crest, I do not have the words to tell you.”

“I love you just as strongly,” d’Artagnan told him. “I always have. That has not changed in all this time no matter what we have been through. I would be honored to wear your ring, to wear such an outward sign of all that is between us.”

Athos lifted d’Artagnan’s left hand, his own hand shaking as he did so. Carefully, he slid the ring onto his lover’s third finger, making it clear what he intended. “Is this alright?”

D’Artagnan looked down at his hand, marveling at the sight of Athos’ ring adorning it. He felt tears sting his eyes again as he looked up at his lover. He tried to answer but could not get his throat to work. He settled for simply nodding, overcome by Athos’ gesture.

“D’Artagnan?” Athos whispered when his lover still didn’t say anything. He could see the shining wetness in his eyes and cupped his face. Leaning forward slowly, he brought their lips together, kissing him softly. His own heart felt fit to burst at d’Artagnan’s reaction to his gesture and he found himself needing to express it with something other than words.

D’Artagnan moaned into the kiss, opening his mouth to him. He felt totally overwhelmed, his heart all but pounding out of his chest. He could not believe what was happening, that this wasn’t just a dream on his part. That Athos would want to bind himself to him so completely was nearly more than he could take in and he gripped Athos tightly in an attempt to anchor himself.

“Shh. Easy,” Athos said, pulling back from their kiss. He could see the emotions in d’Artagnan’s eyes and stroked his face gently. “It’s alright. I am here, my love. I have you.”

“I love you so much,” d’Artagnan whispered as he pressed his face into Athos’ chest. 

Athos wrapped his arms around him and just held him for long minutes, letting him calm. Once his lover seemed to have settled a bit, he drew back. “Let me get out of some of these clothes,” he said, referring to his doublet and weapons that he still wore.

D’Artagnan nodded and released Athos. He thought he should probably help but he couldn’t stop watching him. Slowly, Athos removed the various layers of clothing until he was down to just shirt and breeches. To d’Artagnan, it felt like Athos was slowly peeling back the layers of his heart, willingly baring the core of it.

As he undressed, Athos considered stripping all the way down to his smalls but hesitated. One look at d’Artagnan told him that the younger man was still somewhat overwhelmed. He did not want to push him into anything when he was so clearly unsettled so he undressed only as far as the other man was. 

Taking him by the hand again, Athos sat back down next to him on the bed. His eyes were drawn to the ring and he felt a surge of love at the sight of it on d’Artagnan’s finger. To see his family crest there, to see such a tangible sign of their commitment to each other, was breathtaking. 

“I’m so sorry about yesterday,” D’Artagnan began.

“Hush, love,” Athos told him. “It is over and forgiven. As I hope my own actions are. I know I overreacted. I never meant to frighten you like that.”

“Oh Athos, no,” D’Artagnan said, gripping his hand hard and turning to face him. “I mean, yeah you scared me, but I deserved it. I put Aramis in danger and...”

“Aramis is not the only one I was concerned for,” Athos broke in. “I was just as worried for you as I was for him. I hope you know that.”

“I do,” d’Artagnan replied. “And while I do not think you did anything that requires forgiveness, consider it freely given.”

“Thank you,” Athos said, relieved more than he thought he would be. Apparently, he still harbored some few concerns about his actions.

Smiling softly, d’Artagnan leaned forward. His intent was obvious and Athos met him half-way, taking his mouth in a gentle kiss. As they kissed, he sank one hand into d’Artagnan’s hair, cradling his head, his other hand still holding d’Artagnan’s own. 

Athos began carefully pushing d’Artagnan backward as they kissed, urging his lover to lie down on the bed. Once he realized what it was Athos wanted, d’Artagnan eagerly complied, stretching out on the bed and pulling Athos down on top of him. 

Athos smiled as he lay down atop his lover. He still kept the kiss gentle, stroking d’Artagnan’s face as he did so. He could feel the other man hardening beneath him and it made his own flesh do likewise. Soon, they were both hard in their breeches. He could tell that d’Artagnan wanted him to let go, however he kept their kiss gentle. Now was not the time for ardor. Now was the time to show the other man how truly devoted to him he was.

D’Artagnan moaned into Athos’ mouth as the man continued to softly kiss him. His cock had grown hard and he could feel an answering hardness pressing against his hip. He tried to buck up but Athos’ weight held him down. That only made him moan again and he let himself go lax, giving himself over to Athos completely.

Athos felt it the moment d’Artagnan surrendered to him. His lover went soft and pliant beneath him, letting Athos do as he would. He kissed him deeply then, reveling in the taste and feel of him. He was still careful to keep the kiss gentle, determined to demonstrate the depth of his love for this man.

Long minutes later, Athos finally pulled back. He looked down into d’Artagnan’s eyes. All the love he felt for him was mirrored back at him and it made Athos’ own heart clench in his chest. He stroked d’Artagnan’s cheek then pressed another brief kiss to his red and swollen lips.

“Athos...” d’Artagnan moaned. The tender way Athos was touching him was undoing him in ways he never imagined. It was like Aramis’ campaign to woo him only ten times worse. 

Athos smiled, pleased with the desire he saw raging in his lover’s eyes. “I love you so much,” he said softly. “May I make love to you?”

“Yes,” d’Artagnan gasped brokenly. 

Athos rose up, moving off the other man to the side. He began to slowly and carefully remove d’Artagnan’s clothes. He let his hands stroke over each inch of newly bared skin. By the time he removed his smalls, d’Artagnan was trembling. 

“So beautiful,” Athos murmured, leaning down and stealing another kiss. 

“Please,” d’Artagnan begged, thrashing his head back and forth. His entire body felt over sensitized with Athos’ fingers leaving trails of fire wherever they touched.

“Yes, love,” Athos said as he quickly shed his own clothes. “I’m here.”

“Want you so much,” d’Artagnan moaned, feeling as if he would spend the moment Athos so much as neared his cock. He didn’t care, though. All he cared about was feeling Athos taking him and making him his own.

“You’ll have me, I promise,” Athos assured him. Naked at last, he moved back on top of the other man. He felt d’Artagnan buck his hips helplessly beneath him and ground down against him. He knew the younger man was on the brink and wanted to send him over the edge before making love to him.

D’Artagnan tried to hold out, but it was no use. He arched beneath Athos as much as he could, his hard cock rubbing against the other man’s in a way that made his toes curl. A moment later, he gave a shout as he began to spend between them, his cock jerking as Athos thrust against him, drawing out his pleasure.

Athos finally stilled, giving his lover a chance to come down a bit. He waited until d’Artagnan sighed and went boneless beneath him once more before pushing himself up and off him. Picking up his discarded shirt, he wiped d’Artagnan clean then himself. 

“Make love with me now?” d’Artagnan asked somewhat hesitantly. While he was not aroused, he still longed to feel Athos taking him.

“Are you sure?” Athos asked. He was still quite aroused, but if d’Artagnan did not feel up to continuing they would not.

“Very,” d’Artagnan told him. 

“Then I shall,” Athos said. He moved back on top of d’Artagnan and kissed him until they were both breathless before moving down between his legs. He thought about spreading him wide and seeing if he could rouse him again with his tongue, but he refrained. D’Artagnan wanted him inside and Athos wasn’t sure he could hold out that long.

Taking up the oil he had brought back to the bed with him, he slicked his fingers liberally. He hesitated briefly, running his slick fingers up and down d’Artagnan’s cleft before sinking one inside of him. He had to bite back a moan at the feel of that tight heat engulfing his finger making his cock throb between his legs.

“Another, Athos. Please,” D’Artagnan moaned, attempting to spread his legs even wider for the man. His cock was not hard but he still ached to feel Athos inside of him. 

Athos didn’t reply. Instead, he carefully pushed a second finger inside his lover. He knew it was too soon, that they were rushing things, but he could see the desperation in his lover’s eyes. That he felt a similar desperation only drove him on making him throw his usual caution to the wind. 

D’Artagnan groaned loudly when Athos pushed two fingers deep inside him. He could feel the slight burn of the stretch and he welcomed it. He knew Athos did not want to cause him pain in this so he did not spur him on. Rather, he simply lay pliant and open on the bed, letting his lover make his body ready for him.

The feel of d’Artagnan’s body gripping him so tightly made Athos moan again. It was like his fingers were directly connected to his cock, relaying the feel of that tight heat and making his bollocks ache. His cock was hard and leaking and he knew he was not going to be able to wait much longer, not if he did not want to end up spending like this.

“Can you take me?” Athos asked, his voice rough with desire. 

“Yes. God, yes,” d’Artagnan gasped, more than ready.

“Alright,” Athos said, nodding. He pulled his fingers free, wiping them on his shirt as well then slicked his cock. He shuddered at the feel of his own hand. If he wasn’t careful, he would spend before he even finished breeching the man.

Taking a deep breath, Athos pushed d’Artagnan’s legs apart, baring his slick hole to him. He resisted the urge to lean down and taste him. Instead, he moved up, placing the head of his swollen cock at his loosened hole and pressing inside. 

D’Artagnan whimpered at the feel of Athos’ cock stretching him wide, though it was not from pain. No, it was from the feel of his lover taking him, of Athos claiming him in the most primal of ways. Just the feel of him slowly sinking inside of him was enough to have his cock twitching against his belly eagerly.

Athos stared down into d’Artagnan’s dark eyes as he slowly impaled him with his cock. He could see the effect he was having on the man, how close he was coming to overwhelming him with just this and it made him want to wrap him in his arms and hold him tight.

He knew, though, that wasn’t what either of them truly needed so he pressed forward, not stopping until he was inside him to the hilt. Once he was as far inside of d’Artagnan as he could possibly get, he stilled. He could fee his lover’s body rippling around him, clenching down on his cock repeatedly. Only when Athos felt his body begin to relax did he begin to move.

D’Artagnan felt like he was on fire. Athos was taking him so slowly, so carefully. Their eyes were locked together, both of them watching the other. He could see all the love Athos felt for him shining in his eyes and he felt tears sting his own. He loved this man so much and the fact that Athos returned his regard, loved him just as deeply, was nearly unfathomable.

“I love you,” Athos told him as he leaned down to capture his mouth once more. He began to move faster then though he was still mindful, still careful to be gentle. As d’Artagnan ardently returned his kiss, his arms encircling him and holding him close, Athos was lost. In the space of a few moments his body whole body tightened as he pushed as deeply into d’Artagnan as he could go and spent himself.

When it was over and Athos could think once again, he began to carefully pull out. He kissed d’Artagnan as he did so, knowing it would make the sudden emptiness easier to take. Using his shirt one final time to clean himself a bit, he threw it back to the floor then lay down beside his lover. D’Artagnan turned toward him at once and Athos embraced him. It was not long before the man was settled against his side, his head pillowed on Athos’ chest as they simply lay together.

&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M

Porthos led Aramis up the stairs and into the main bedroom. He closed the door behind them, wanting to ensure their privacy. He was growing nervous again and ran a hand through his thick curls. It was not that he doubted Aramis or his feelings, but it was as Athos said. Aramis might not be ready for such a commitment between them. After all, Aramis was like a wild thing, free and unfettered. And while he certainly did not intend for his ring to tie him down in any way, he knew there was the very real chance that Aramis might see it that way.

“What’s wrong?” Aramis asked. He could see Porthos growing increasingly nervous and felt fear claw at his belly. “Whatever it is, you know you can tell me.”

Porthos’ eyes shot to Aramis’ and he could see the concern in them. Taking his lover’s hand again, he kissed his knuckles. Still holding onto his hand, he led him over to the bed and sat down, pulling Aramis down next to him. 

“It’s nothing bad, love. I promise,” Porthos said. 

“Then why are so worried?” Aramis asked. 

“Because I am unsure of how you might take this and I am afraid.”

“How I might take what, Porthos?” Aramis asked. He remembered the last time one of his lovers had said similar words to him and suddenly paled. He had survived Athos telling him he no longer owned his heart, to hear that from Porthos, however, would likely end him.

Porthos saw the color drain from his lover’s face and wanted to kick himself. He had not intended to make Aramis worry so. “Whatever you are thinking, I swear you are wrong,” Porthos told him. 

“If you do not know what I am thinking how can you say I am wrong?” Aramis countered.

“Because I can tell from the look on your face that it isn’t good, love,” Porthos told him. 

Aramis shrugged. “I simply recalled the last time a lover of mine was unsure how I might take something he wanted to tell me.”

Porthos’ eyes widened as he realized what Aramis was referring to. “I swear to you, Aramis, it is nothing like that,” Porthos vowed. “You have owned my heart since long before we became lovers. You will own my heart until the day I die. Nothing and no one will ever change that.”

Aramis let out a shaky breath and leaned into Porthos. He knew his fear was unfounded but he had not been able to help himself. To lose Porthos, to find himself _replaced_ , would rend his heart in two.

“I’m sorry, love,” Porthos said as he wrapped his arms around Aramis and held him. “Didn’t mean to worry you like that.”

“It is alright,” Aramis told him as he rested his head against Porthos’ chest. “I was being foolish, I know. To lose my place in your heart...”

“Never,” Porthos swore. 

“Then tell me what is going on,” Aramis pled softly.

“Alright,” Porthos said as he took a deep breath and steeled himself. “Me and Athos, when we went out, it was to pick something up.”

“Okay,” Aramis said, frowning slightly in confusion.

“Think maybe I should just show it to you,” Porthos said as he pulled back from Aramis. Reaching into his pocked, he pulled out the little pouch. His hands were shaking as he opened it and fished out the gleaming silver band inside. He literally held his breath as he held the ring out to Aramis and waited.

Aramis felt the breath leave his body in a rush as he looked at the ring in Porthos’ hand. His own hands were shaking as he reached out and took it. Peering at it, he saw that it was polished silver with crosses etched all the way around it. He looked up at Porthos then back at the ring unsure what to say.

“I love you more than anything or anyone in this world,” Porthos began. “You are everything to me. You are the sun that I revolve around. You are the moon and I am the helpless tide. I have loved you for years, first as friend then as brother and now as lover. I will love you until the day I leave this earth. And if your God is merciful, I will love you even then.”

Aramis stared at his lover. He had never heard such words from Porthos before. Poetry was much more in keeping with his manner than Porthos’. To hear them now made his heart slam against his ribs in a vain attempt to break free. 

Porthos looked at his lover, taking in the awestruck look on Aramis’ face. His lover had not said a word since he had handed him the ring. Porthos did not know if that was a good sign or a bad one so forged on.

“I realize what I am asking in this,” he continued, a bit more hesitantly now. “I also know that you are a wild thing, meant to be free. I tell you now, I would never seek to change that, to change you. I would never want to... to place chains upon you...”

“Porthos,” Aramis breathed, stopping his lover’s words. “I know that. I know you would never seek to tame me. But...”

“But?” Porthos asked, his heart suddenly in his throat.

“Are you certain you want such a thing?” Aramis forced himself to ask. For as much as Porthos thought him wild and free, Aramis knew that Porthos was much the same, if to a lesser degree. To willingly bind himself to anyone in such a manner was not something Aramis had ever expected of the man.

“More than anything,” Porthos told him. “But if it is too much, you need only say. I know what I am asking in this, Aramis. I know what it will mean between us. If this is something you are not ready for, you need only tell me so.”

“How can you... Porthos...” Aramis stammered, seemingly unable to get his words out. He closed his eyes for a moment and simply breathed. When he opened them again, he saw Porthos looking at him rather worriedly and smiled.

“Aramis?”

“I love you,” Aramis said resolutely. “I love you with every fiber of my being. You are the other half of my soul. That you would bind yourself to the likes of me is almost beyond my comprehension.”

“I love you,” Porthos told him again. “You are the very heart of me. I would willingly bind myself to you in any way I could.”

“Then place your ring upon my finger,” Aramis said, holding the ring out to him. “Place your ring upon my finger so that I know always and forever that we are bound.”

His hands were shaking so much he nearly dropped the ring as he reached down and took Aramis’ left hand. He glanced at his lover’s face silently asking if this was acceptable. He saw Aramis suck in a surprised breath and nod. Lifting his hand, Porthos took the ring and carefully slid it on the third finger of Aramis’ left hand. 

When Porthos released his hand, Aramis could not stop looking at it. He had never dreamed that anyone would want to make such a commitment to him. That Porthos of all people did was the most unexpected blessing imaginable. 

“You like it?” Porthos asked when Aramis didn’t say anything.

Aramis’ eyes shot to Porthos, startled. He opened his mouth but nothing came out. Swallowing thickly, he closed his mouth and merely nodded. His eyes were over-bright as emotions swamped him. He loved this man _so much_. 

Porthos broke out into a wide grin at Aramis’ nod. Taking his hand, he linked their fingers together. The feel of his ring on Aramis’ hand thrilled him more than he could say. Still holding his hand, he brought his other to Aramis’ face and cupped his cheek. Slowly, he leaned forward and pressed their lips together.

Aramis kissed him back out of instinct, still too stunned to do more. He had never spoken of his desire for this, for such blatant proof of Porthos’ devotion, yet something within him had always longed for it. Others were afforded such luxuries every day, yet it was denied to them simply because they were both men. 

Pulling back from the kiss, Porthos scanned Aramis’ face. “You need me to stop, love?” he asked when he saw how thrown the man appeared to be. 

Aramis’ eyes turned to Porthos and he smiled as he blushed and shook his head. It was his turn now to cup Porthos’ face before leaning forward to press an equally gentle kiss to his lips. His other hand tightened around Porthos’ own and he moaned weakly at the feel of the ring pressing against his finger. 

“I want you,” Porthos growled when Aramis finally pulled back.

“Then have me,” Aramis replied meaning it more ardently than he ever had before.

Pulling away from Porthos reluctantly, Aramis stood and started in on the laces of his cuffs. Porthos hesitated for a moment then stood and pulled his hand away. “Let me,” he said.

Aramis swallowed thickly around the sudden lump in his throat and nodded. He felt his knees go weak when Porthos began carefully unlacing and removing his shirt. While he knew, of course, that Porthos treasured him, the man was not usually given to such slow and tender ministrations. For him to be taking such care now was almost more than he could take.

Porthos didn’t speak as he removed Aramis’ shirt and dropped it to the floor. He could tell the effect his actions were having and did not want to overwhelm the man. Not yet anyway. Once he had his breeches unlaced, he pulled his braces down then sank to his knees before him. He heard Aramis suck in a breath but he ignored it as he slowly pulled his breeches down and off leaving the man in nothing but his smalls. Porthos looked up at Aramis then and saw the maelstrom of emotions that whirled in his eyes. He placed a hand on the ties to his smalls and waited. 

Aramis gasped quietly when Porthos looked up and met his eyes. His lover’s hand rested at the ties of his smalls as if seeking his permission to go on. All at once, Aramis realized that was exactly what Porthos was doing. His beautiful, gentle Porthos was waiting for him to tell him if it was alright for him to go on. 

“Yes, please,” Aramis told him.

Porthos smiled widely at Aramis’ words and set to work. He untied the man’s last garment and pulled it down and off. That his lover was only semi-hard was a testament to just how surprised and off-kilter Aramis still was.

“You okay, love?” Porthos asked as he rose to his feet once more, barely resisting the urge to take Aramis in his mouth then and there.

“I… I am…” Aramis stammered in vain. He blushed darker as he realized how he was acting and took a moment to calm himself. 

“Aramis?” Porthos prompted, the slightest edge of worry in his voice.

“Forgive me for acting the blushing maiden. I am alright,” Aramis managed at last. “I am still awed that you would wish such a thing with me. It is something I never thought to have and I had not realized until you gave it to me how very much I wanted it.”

“I would give you the world if I but could,” Porthos told him.

“I love you so much, Porthos,” Aramis replied.

Porthos pulled Aramis into his arms and kissed him then. He was still mindful to keep his passion in check for once. This would be no rough coupling between them. This time, he would show his lover exactly how cherished he was.

Aramis allowed himself to be tugged forward willingly. He gripped Porthos’ shirt as the man wrapped his arms around him and kissed him. He was surprised yet again when this kiss was as gentle as the ones before it and all but melted in his lover’s embrace.

Porthos let his hands trail up and down Aramis’ naked back as they kissed languidly. He let his fingers barely brush the swell of his ass before moving upward once more. He could feel the man growing hard against him and moaned softly into his mouth. His own cock was hard in his breeches and he longed to be out of the confining material.

Aramis nearly keened when Porthos pulled back, not wanting to relinquish the kiss. He could see the desire raging in his lover’s eyes and it made his cock grow harder still. Taking a step back, he began to undress Porthos using the same care as Porthos had shown him. 

Porthos had to clench his fists when Aramis dropped to his knees before him to remove his boots and breeches. He could understand now why Aramis had looked so undone. This slow seduction was nearly impossible to resist. When Aramis paused, his hand on the ties to his smalls, Porthos could only nod. Short seconds later, he felt cool air on his heated cock as Aramis removed the last of his clothes and stood.

Porthos couldn’t resist pulling Aramis into another kiss. This time they were both naked and the feel of skin against skin had both of them moaning. Aramis’ cock was hard where it pressed against him as was his own. When he trailed his hands down Aramis’ back this time, he did not stop. Running his hands over the firm globes of Aramis’ ass, he pulled his lover against him, rubbing their bodies together. 

Aramis wrenched his mouth away at the feel of Porthos’ hands on his backside. He gasped as the man ground their erections together. Bringing his hands up, he sank both of the into Porthos’ tight curls.

“Porthos, please,” he moaned. 

“What do you want?” Porthos asked, his voice rough. “Tell me and it’s yours.”

“Make love with me,” Aramis said, suddenly weak with desire. 

Porthos nodded and kissed him again before pulling back. “Lay down on the bed, love,” he said as he placed both the oil and a cloth on the bedside table. 

Aramis licked his lips at the sight of the oil, his lust growing even hotter at the thought of it. He laid down in the center of the big bed ensuring Porthos had room to do whatever he liked. He had a feeling this encounter would not be like most of their others. Porthos was already being so tender and gentle with him. Aramis was not sure how much more he could take of such treatment.

It was Porthos’ turn to lick his lips at the sight before him. Aramis was stretched out on his back, his hair an unruly mop as it spread out on the pillow beneath his head. His cock was hard and flushed as it curved up toward his belly and Porthos found himself suddenly desperate to taste him.

“Come here,” Aramis beckoned as he held out his hand. He could see that Porthos was almost as overwhelmed as he was and it made him smile. 

Taking Aramis’ hand, Porthos let himself be pulled down beside his lover. He stretched out next to him, pressing his body to Aramis’ side from head to toe. His cock jerked when it came into contact with Aramis’ hip and Porthos’ hand tightened on Aramis’ in reflex. 

Aramis felt Porthos’ cock give a jerk and had to fight to keep from turning toward him. He could tell that Porthos wanted to take this slowly so forced himself to simply lay still beside him. His own cock was hard and leaking against his belly but he ignored it for now, focusing instead on his lover.

“You’re beautiful,” Porthos said as he released his hand and stroked the scars on Aramis’ face. He was relieved when Aramis didn’t pull away from the touch or attempt to contradict him. He knew how much he still struggled with accepting the scars and needed him to understand that they did not diminish him in any way. It would take much more than a few paltry scars to diminish Aramis in his eyes, if such a thing were even possible.

“Porthos,” Aramis whispered, his hand going to Porthos’ hip and gripping tightly.

“You amaze me,” Porthos continued. “You’re so strong, so good. Being your lover is the most wondrous thing to ever happen to me. It is a gift and I will never take it for granted.”

“Please…” Aramis begged as he tried to blink away the sudden tears in his eyes. 

“Tell me,” Porthos urged. “Tell me what you want, love.”

“Touch me,” Aramis moaned. “Please, Porthos, I need to feel your hands on me.”

Porthos complied at once. He propped his head up on one hand as he traced the other down the side of Aramis’ face. He stroked along his neck, running his thumb beneath the collar he wore. He felt Aramis shiver at that and did it again drawing a moan from the man. 

“You like that,” Porthos said. “You like me touching you here, under your collar.”

“Yes,” Aramis gasped.

“Tell me why,” Porthos said. He had a feeling he already knew the answer but wanted to hear it from Aramis. 

“It... it means… means you accept it,” Aramis stammered, searching for the right words. 

“It means I accept _you_ ,” Porthos countered. “It means I accept this part of you. I do and I will never seek to change you. I accept all of you, including the Whelp’s pretty collar.”

Aramis didn’t reply, unable to say anything in the face of Porthos’ complete acceptance. His lover had always been somewhat reticent about this part of him, about what it entailed, what it meant. To hear him state his approval of it so boldly made Aramis’ eyes grow wet once more.

Porthos ran his thumb back and forth under the collar again and again, over the side of his neck all the way around to his throat. He watched Aramis’ eyes grow more and more damp as he did so. When tears finally began to leak from the corner of his eyes, Porthos dipped his head down and kissed them away before finally moving his hand lower once again.

Aramis gulped in a breath when he felt Porthos’ lips at his temple. He did not know why such a simple gesture was wreaking such havoc on him. Porthos had told him before that he accepted this. Yet his lover had never truly shown that acceptance until now. 

Porthos was enjoying the feel of Aramis’ skin beneath his hand as he trailed it downward. He paused at one dusky nipple, letting his thumb swipe over the pert nub. Aramis jerked and moaned at the feel of it so Porthos did it again. Aramis grew louder every time he brushed his thumb over it. When he finally keened, Porthos grinned and gently took the swollen bit of flesh between his finger and thumb. He rolled it back and forth as softly as he could and was rewarded with a startled gasp and an abortive thrust of Aramis’ hips.

Porthos paused for a moment, giving Aramis a chance to calm slightly. Smiling wickedly, Porthos dipped his head down again and licked the scar that ran across his ribs. Before Aramis could finish processing that, he wrapped his lips around the man’s other nipple and once more began to roll the first one. The result was spectacular.

Aramis cried out loudly when he felt Porthos’ mouth seal over his sensitive nipple even as he continued to torment the first one. He gripped Porthos’ hip hard enough to bruise with one hand while the other went to his cock. He squeezed himself mercilessly, refusing to spend so soon. He was determined to spend when Porthos was inside of him and not before.

Porthos licked and sucked at Aramis’ nipple, bathing it with his tongue. He let his teeth close on it carefully and tugged as he pinched the first one a little harder. Aramis was leaving bruises on his hip where he held him but Porthos didn’t care. He continued his onslaught for long minutes until Aramis was thrashing his head back and forth, and whispering “please” over and over.

Finally, Porthos relinquished his treat. He placed a last soft kiss to the red and swollen nub before leaning back again. He let his hand trail downward once more over his chest and down his stomach to his navel. He felt Aramis thrust his hips again when he ran his finger around the rim of it and considered giving it the same treatment he had his nipple. One look at Aramis’ face made him refrain. His lover was somewhat wild-eyed as it was and Porthos knew the time for teasing was over. 

Letting his hand move down still more, he avoided his lover’s straining erection to stroke along his hip. He didn’t tease this time though. Instead, he reached for Aramis’ cock. He was surprised to feel Aramis’ own hand there, gripping himself tightly. 

“Aramis?” Porthos queried as he stroked his hip again in the hopes of soothing him.

“I didn’t want to spend,” Aramis explained as he moved his hand away. “Not before you were inside of me.”

“Oh,” Porthos said, touched by his lover’s admission.

“Make love with me, Porthos,” Aramis said again. 

Porthos did not reply with words. He leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to Aramis’ lips instead then sat up. Taking the oil, he moved down the bed then spread Aramis’ legs and settled between them. He slicked his fingers then pushed Aramis’ leg up so he could run them up and down his cleft.

Aramis spread his legs wide, baring himself to Porthos as best he could. He could not stop himself from trying to press back against his fingers as they brushed over his hole. When he felt a single, thick finger stop at his hole and press, he held his breath.

Porthos’ eyes traveled back and forth between where his hand was and Aramis’ face. He could feel his lover shaking slightly as he stroked over his hole. Finally, he pressed one slick finger against him. He held it there for a moment, pressing but not breeching him, then he pushed forward, sinking his finger inside of Aramis to the hilt in one smooth motion.

Aramis moaned brokenly when he felt Porthos breeching him at last. He could feel his body clamping down on that single digit trying to get it deeper still. When Porthos began to move it in and out of him, he could not stop himself from keening. 

“More,” he pled desperately. “Please, Porthos. More.”

Porthos hesitated a moment and took in the look of pure need on Aramis’ face. He slowly pulled his finger free earning him another keening moan. He quickly replaced it with two, sinking both of them in as far as he could reach and stilling. He could feel Aramis’ body rippling around him, clenching on his fingers and releasing only to clench down once more. Aramis’ cock had turned a deep, dark red and fluid pooled on his belly where it wept. 

Feeling his own patience running out, Porthos began to move his fingers. Aramis gasped with every press of them inside of him, wordlessly begging for more. When Porthos felt his body start to relax around him, he pulled his fingers free.

“Do you want me to use another?” Porthos asked, not wanting to hurt Aramis.

“No,” Aramis wailed. “Take me. Oh please, take me.” He was shaking in earnest now, his entire body on fire. He could not think of anything past the maddening need to feel Porthos inside of him. His cock was so hard it hurt, yet he made no move to touch it. He was Porthos’ to do with as he wished. 

Taking up the oil once more, Porthos slicked his cock as quickly as he could. He pushed Aramis’ thigh back even farther, baring his hole to him. When he nestled his cock up against him, he felt Aramis give a full body shudder then he was pressing forward, his cock sinking inside of the man as he cried out and shook.

Aramis reached up and pulled Porthos down by the shoulders. He needed to feel his lover touching as much of him as possible as he sank inside of him. He could feel his body yielding to the man, opening for him as Porthos pushed all the way inside of him. He had once described the feeling of Porthos taking him as being plundered but he had never felt it so intensely as he did right now. He felt taken by the man on a whole new level and he did not think he would ever be the same again.

Porthos let Aramis pull him down as he slowly filled him. He did not stop until he was all the way inside of him, his bollocks pressed up tight against him. Aramis was shaking hard beneath him and Porthos raised up enough to kiss him, needing to taste his lover again. He stayed as he was for what felt like forever. His cock throbbed inside of Aramis as he kissed him deeply. He pressed his tongue into his mouth just as he had his cock, taking his lover in every possible way at once. 

Aramis kissed Porthos back as best as he could. Porthos was taking his mouth as he had the rest of him and all Aramis could do was lie there and accept it. Needing to feel more of him still, Aramis wrapped his legs around him, holding him. He felt Porthos give a jerk and moaned into their kiss as he suckled on his lover’s tongue.

Porthos groaned loudly when Aramis wrapped his legs around him. His lover was encompassing him completely and he reveled in it. When Aramis began to suck on his tongue, Porthos knew he needed to move lest he spend like this. Still kissing Aramis deeply, he pulled his hips back and thrust forward. Aramis gasped into his mouth, his arms and legs tightening around him. That simple act tore through the last of Porthos’ control and he began to move in earnest, pulling almost completely out and sliding back in again, savoring that tight heat every time it engulfed him.

Aramis knew it would not take much more for him to spend. Porthos seemed to be everywhere at once and he glutted his senses on the man. His own cock felt huge between his legs as Porthos’ belly rubbed over it, stoking the fire within him into a conflagration. 

Porthos could tell that Aramis was close. He considered that a good thing as he didn’t know how much longer he could hold out. Shifting slightly, he changed the angle of his thrust and felt his cock brush over the engorged bundle of nerves inside his lover.

Aramis cried out and bucked up hard when he felt Porthos’ cock brush over him _there_. His entire body seemed to clamp down around the cock inside of him and he shouted into Porthos’ mouth as he began to spend, his cock jerking between them.

The feel of Aramis’ body clenching around him coupled with the sound his lover made as he began to spend was enough to push Porthos over the edge as well. He slammed his hips forward hard and ground against him as his own cock began to spend. For long moments, his cock jerked inside of his lover, sending spurt after spurt of his seed deep inside the man. He could feel Aramis’ cock pulsing weakly between them as he finished spending as well.

When it was over and Porthos could move again, he carefully raised himself up. Looking down at Aramis, he smiled at the dazed look his lover still wore. He held himself there, waiting as his cock softened and finally slipped free before sitting up. Taking up the rag, he wiped Aramis clean with tender strokes before giving himself a cursory cleaning. Finally, he laid down beside his lover and pulled him into his arms. He felt Aramis snuggle down into his embrace and pressed a kiss to the top of his head.


	15. Chapter 15

Athos’ meetings with Treville went much the way he had anticipated. Even being away as he had, it did not take long for Athos to get back in the rhythm of things. D’Artagnan had accompanied him the first time, neither of them wanting to be apart from the other. It was much the same for Aramis and Porthos. The two stayed within arm’s reach of each other almost constantly. 

Not wanting to spend the entire day inside, Aramis and Porthos headed to the marked while Athos and d’Artagnan went to the garrison. Aramis could not stop himself from smiling every time he was reminded of the ring on his finger. 

“You seem happy today,” Porthos commented as they walked. 

“I am,” Aramis replied. “Even though we can never speak our vows aloud, we know that we have made them.”

“Yes,” Porthos agreed. “And everyone that matters to us knows as well. Now, what are we going to get for dinner tonight? I think Athos and the Whelp deserve something special for once.”

“That, dear Porthos, is an excellent idea,” Aramis beamed.

They walked on, arms linked together, snickering giddily each time their shoulders or hips bumped together. They knew it was a bit too much, that they should be keeping at least a little space between them, but they just could not bring themselves to. 

They had not felt this happy, this content and care-free in months. It had been so long that Porthos had despaired of ever seeing the return of his light-hearted lover. Aramis had fought long and hard to heal, was still fighting, and those battles had left a pall over his spirit that was painful to see. Now, however, Porthos was once again getting a glimpse of the happy, confident man his lover was before and it gave him hope.

“What are you thinking?” Aramis asked as they slowly made their way through the market, strolling arm in arm.

“That it is good to see you like this.”

“Like this?”

“Happy. Content. Free of the shadows that have weighed you down for so long. You have come so far but the journey has left its mark on you. Until today, I had not thought to ever see you free of it.”

“It has been a trial for you as well, hasn’t it?” Aramis asked softly. Porthos never spoke of his own struggles to put all that had happened behind him. Aramis was not stupid, though. He knew that, though the struggle had been his, Porthos had labored through it right along with him. In truth, he did not believe he would have made it half as far as he did without the man’s steady presence to bolster him.

Tugging Aramis the tiniest bit closer, Porthos leaned toward him. “I love you,” he whispered. “Yes, it has been a trial but I would endure it a thousand times over for this moment alone.”

“I love you, as well,” Aramis told him, emotion welling up with in at his lover’s unwavering support. “And if I but could, I would proclaim our love for all to see. You are everything to me, my heart. Everything.”

They walked along the stalls, looking over the various goods on offer. They finally settled on pheasant with roasted parsnips for supper. It was one of the few dishes, other than camp fare, that Aramis knew how to make without help. Porthos had been right, Athos and d’Artagnan deserved something special and this way their resident cook could take the night off. 

That done, they continued to walk along. They had regretfully had to unlink their arms so settled for surreptitiously brushing their hands together as they continued to browse. Spying the bakery, Aramis grinned widely and pulled Porthos toward it.

“Alright, alright,” Porthos laughed as he stopped just outside the doorway. “I’ll wait out here with dinner. You go and get desert.”

Barely resisting the nearly overpowering urge to kiss him, Aramis squeezed his shoulder instead and ducked into the shop. He wanted to find the perfect desert to go with their meal. Something all four of them would enjoy. He knew Porthos would not mind waiting a few minutes so he took his time looking around the shop.

Unbeknownst to Aramis, he and Porthos were being carefully watched. Pierre had spied Aramis as soon as he reached the market. He took in the big man walking beside him, took in the leathers he wore, the way he walked. More importantly, he took in the way he stayed close to Aramis, never letting more than a few scant inches separate them at any time. It would seem Aramis had acquired quite a few protectors since the last time he had seen him. 

Biding his time, Pierre followed the pair. When Aramis left his watchdog to enter the pastry shop, he made his move. Circling around, he came up behind the big man. He paused for a second then pushed into his back hard causing both of them to stumble forward as the man hastily juggled his basket to keep from spilling its contents.

“Excuse me!” Pierre exclaimed as he grabbed onto Porthos’ arm to help steady him. “I’m so sorry, my good Sir. I was not paying attention to where I was walking.”

“No harm done,” Porthos said as he checked to make sure he had not dropped anything.

“Thank goodness for that,” Pierre continued. “I hope I did not damage your purchases any.”

“Nah,” Porthos grinned. “Just some dinner we picked up for tonight.”

“Ah. I take it your wife is in the pastry shop?”

Porthos could not hold back a laugh at the somewhat ironic words. “Don’t think Aramis would appreciate being referred to as my wife,” he laughed again. 

“My mistake,” Pierre said, chuckling as well. “You know how these women are, though. Always sending us men off to fetch something or other that they simply cannot live without. I’m afraid that was why I wasn’t watching where I was walking. I was looking for the latest trinket my own dear wife sent me to fetch.”

Pierre continued to chat with Porthos, playing the part of the put out husband. He wanted Aramis to see him, to see that even with a watchdog such as this that he was not safe from him. A short time later, he was rewarded for his patience as Aramis came out of the shop. He was facing the door so he had the pleasure of seeing the smile slide off of Aramis’ face as he recognized just who his companion was speaking with.

Aramis exited he shop, grinning happily. He had procured a chocolate pie with berries, something he knew d’Artagnan was particularly fond of. He opened his mouth to tell Porthos of his success when he took in the scene before him. 

Porthos’ back was to the doorway as he laughed with the man standing in front of him. It was this man that drew Aramis’ attention and made the blood freeze in his veins. He felt his heart start to pound as Pierre smiled. The smile was directed at Porthos but Pierre’s eyes were riveted to Aramis.

All at once, Aramis was _there_ again. He was on his knees, bound across that hateful chair, his back striped and bleeding while Pierre and Marisol laughed down at him. He felt his breath stutter in his chest as that long-ago nightmare played out in his mind. Panic was threatening to swamp him and he shook his head hard in an attempt to force the horrific memories from his mind. 

Drawing in a wheezing breath, he swallowed thickly as he gripped the basket in his hands tightly. He could feel himself starting to shake and knew he needed to get out of there. He had to force himself to walk forward, toward Pierre. Every instinct inside of him was screaming at him to run, to get as far from this monster as he could.

“Oh, there you are,” Porthos said as he turned and noticed Aramis. One look at the stark fear on Aramis’ face made Porthos’ heart squeeze painfully. For long seconds, he froze then he reached forward and grabbed Aramis by the arm.

Aramis’ eyes snapped to Porthos and he let himself be pulled forward. He could still see the sickening smile Pierre had directed at Porthos and he barely kept himself from moaning aloud. His insides twisted painfully as he fought not to be sick in the street. 

“Aramis? What is it? What’s wrong?” Porthos asked urgently. He glanced back toward the man he had been speaking with and frowned when he saw that he had seemingly disappeared. Before he could give it another thought, a whimper drew his attention back to Aramis and he knew he had to get them out of there.

Keeping a tight grip on Aramis’ arm, Porthos led him back to the house. He moved as quickly as he could, all but shoving people out of their path. Aramis’ arm had gone rigid beneath his hand, his lover’s muscles bunched as if ready to fight. Porthos had no idea what had upset him and, for the moment, he did not care. All he cared about was getting Aramis someplace safe. Then he could try to figure out what had happened.

Once they were back at the house, Porthos pushed Aramis down at the kitchen table then quickly locked the door behind them. Turning back, he could see his lover's whole body shaking. Knowing he had to get Aramis calmed down, he hurried over to the cupboard and pulled out a bottle of wine. He pressed a freshly filled cut into Aramis' hands then sat down across from him. 

"Drink that," Porthos urged as he watched the man anxiously.

Aramis looked down at the cup in his hands then back up at Porthos. He could not believe that Porthos had been talking with _him_. The two had even been laughing together. For one horrible second Aramis wondered if they were laughing at him then he shook his head, angrily forcing the thought away. Porthos would not do that to him. Porthos would not hurt him like that. But then why was he talking and laughing with Pierre as if they were old friends?

"Talk to me, love," Porthos implored, trying to get through to him. He could see that he was still distraught, that whatever had affected him still had him in its grip, and he had no idea what to do.

Aramis opened his mouth to speak then closed it again as words failed him. He continued to stare at Porthos as question after question spun through his mind. Finally, he settled on the one question that burned the brightest. 

"Why?" Aramis whispered, that simple word only conveying a fraction of the pain and confusion inside of him.

"Why what, love?" Porthos asked, confused. He had no idea what Aramis was talking referring to. 

"Why... why were you talking to Pierre? Why were you laughing with him like you were old friends? Have you... have you been in on it with him the whole time?" Aramis felt like this heart was being squeezed in a vise. Suddenly, he couldn't breathe and he began to shake even harder as he looked at Porthos, waiting for his answer.

"What are you talking about?" Porthos asked. He could only watch as Aramis grew more and more distressed but he knew better than to reach for him. For as upset as Aramis was, there was a dangerous glint in his eyes that Porthos knew better than to ignore.

Aramis eyed his lover, trying to decide if he genuinely did not know or if he was being played once again. The thought of Porthos of all people betraying him in such a manner made him want to curl up and die. Unable to meet Porthos' eyes any longer, he dropped his gaze to the cup in his hands. He squeezed his eyes shut, then brought the cup to his lips, draining it in one long drink. 

Setting the cup back down on the table, he forced himself to look at Porthos once again. The worry he saw in his lover's eyes tore at him. He wanted so badly to be mistaken but he did not know what else could account for what he had seen.

"Aramis... Love, please," Porthos softly beseeched. "Whatever it is, just tell me."

"That man," Aramis began haltingly. "The one you were... were laughing with outside the shop..."

"Yeah, what about him?" Porthos asked.

"How do you know him?"

"I don't," Porthos frowned, unsure where this was going. "He bumped into me and we got to talking."

"Did he give you a name?" Aramis pressed. He wanted to believe that this was all a misunderstanding. He wanted to believe that more than anything but he was afraid to. 

"No, we didn't exchange names," Porthos replied. "Aramis... who was he?"

"Pierre Champney."

Porthos felt his insides turn to ice at the mention of that name. No wonder his lover had looked like he had seen a ghost. When he recalled how they had been laughing together when Aramis had come out, he wanted to be sick. He could only imagine how betrayed Aramis must have felt seeing him talking and laughing with the man who had tormented him for so long.

"I didn't know," Porthos managed, his voice strangled. "I swear to God above, I did not know."

Unable to sit there any longer, Aramis pushed to his feet. He ran a hand through his hair, his agitation making him tug hard at it. He glanced at Porthos but the misery he saw in his eyes forced him to look away. He wanted to believe him. He wanted to believe him so badly. But he could not get the sight of them laughing together out of his mind. He knew he was being irrational, that Porthos would never betray him, but... He had not thought Marisol would betray him either. Frustrated and feeling entirely too penned in, he strode toward the sitting room. He was half-way there when Porthos' hand upon his arm stopped him. His eyes snapped to him and he froze.

"Aramis, please..." Porthos begged softly.

Shaking his head, Aramis jerked his arm away. He could not do this. He needed room, room to breathe, room to think. Maybe then he could make some sense out of the chaos his life had suddenly become. Maybe then he could understand how Porthos, the one person he trusted more than any other, could have been talking with _him_.

Porthos swallowed around the lump in his throat as he held his hands up. He did not dare reach for Aramis again, knowing he could not handle such a rejection a second time. He took a step back, putting some space between them and felt his stomach knot painfully at the look of relief on Aramis' face. He opened his mouth to try to say something, anything, but nothing came out. Instead, he shook his head and took a step back again.

Aramis felt as if the very walls were closing in on him in their small kitchen. He felt stifled, as if he could not breathe. Turning from Porthos, he stormed toward the sitting room. He stopped in front of the fireplace, bracing his hands on the mantle. He took deep, calming breaths as he tried to get the maelstrom within him to settle. When his racing heart finally slowed, he pushed away from the mantle and began to pace. 

He could not understand what was happening. How did Porthos know Pierre? Why were they laughing together? Had they known each other this whole time? No, no Aramis refused to believe that. Not of Porthos. Porthos loved him. He would never betray him. He did not know what the explanation was but he knew Porthos had not betrayed him. 

Even as he repeated that to himself over and over, the little voice inside his head whispered to him, pointing out every possible way the two might be acquainted. It spoke of schemes and lies and betrayal. He was a whore, it taunted. What right did he have to expect loyalty of his lover when he was so very faithless himself? These thoughts and more circled round in his head in an endless loop of pain and fear and self-loathing.

In the kitchen, Porthos sat down heavily at the table. He had seen the look of betrayal in his lover's eyes and it tore at him. He did not blame Aramis. He could well understand how he had come to the conclusion he had. When he got his hands on Champney he would make him pay for what he had done here as well as all the pain he had caused Aramis in the past. That, however, was not important right now. What mattered now was convincing Aramis that he had not known who he was talking to and had not betrayed him. 

He was on the cusp of getting up and trying to approach his lover again when Athos and d'Artagnan returned home. He looked up from the table and felt his eyes fill with tears. He was equal parts relieved and apprehensive. He was relieved to see them home so they could help him calm Aramis yet he worried for telling them what had happened. He did not know if he could stand it if they looked at him with betrayal in their eyes as well.

"Porthos?" Athos called as he and d'Artagnan entered the kitchen. The stricken look on his brother's face told him that something was very wrong. "What's happened?"

"Aramis..." Porthos trailed off unsure how to explain himself.

"Where is he?" D'Artagnan asked, fear gripping his heart.

"Sitting room," Porthos managed. 

"Go," Athos told d'Artagnan as he moved to sit down across from Porthos. "Now, tell me what happened?"

"We... we went to the market," Porthos began. "We wanted to get out of the house and I wanted to get something special for you and the Whelp for dinner. Everything was fine until Aramis went into the pastry shop."

"Did he run into Champney?" Athos asked. It was the only thing he could think of that might affect the man so.

"No," Porthos said guiltily. "I did."

"What did you do?" Athos gasped.

"Nothing," Porthos spat angrily. 

"What? I don't understand."

"He came up to me while I was waiting for Aramis. He started talking to me, going on about how his wife sent him out to fetch something. He was doing it on purpose, Athos. He was just waiting for Aramis to come out of the shop and see us there together. We were _laughing_ when he came outside."

"Porthos..."

"He saw me laughing with that monster," Porthos went on, berating himself angrily. "He saw me laughing and joking with the man that's been tormenting him all this time. He thinks..."

"He thinks what?" Athos pressed.

"He thinks I knew him. He thinks I'm friends with that bastard."

"I'm sure he does not," Athos said. "He is overwrought. He knows you would never betray him like that."

"He wouldn't even let me touch him," Porthos moaned as the fear inside of him came spilling out.

"He was shocked, Porthos," Athos said as he reached across the table and covered Porthos' hands with his own. "It was the last thing he ever expected to see. He was shocked and, I think, scared. He may not want to admit it, but I know this man frightens him. He has hurt him with impunity too many times for Aramis not to fear him. It is this fear that drives his reactions now, nothing more."

"Athos... Athos, I swear to God, I did not know it was him," Porthos said, desperate for Athos to believe him.

"I know," Athos said at once. He turned Porthos' hands over and laced their fingers together. "I believe you, brother, and Aramis will too once he can think rationally again."

D'Artagnan found Aramis pacing in front of the fireplace in the sitting room. He paused briefly, taking in the sight of his lover, trying to gauge his agitation. He could tell that Aramis was deeply troubled from the way he kept running his hand through his hair. He could see his lips moving as he paced and frowned. The most troubling thing, however, was the fact that Aramis seemed oblivious to his presence. 

"Little One?" D'Artagnan called out softly, hoping not to startle the man. 

Aramis' head whipped up, his eyes alighting on his Master. He had a moment of panic then he was moving, striding forward and all but throwing himself in the younger man's arms. He had to choke back a sob as he buried his face in the side of the man's neck and breathed in as deeply as he could. He let the familiar scent of his Master wash over him, calming some of the turmoil raging inside of him.

"Easy," d'Artagnan soothed as he held him. He had no idea what had happened but it was obviously something bad. The thing that worried him the most, though, was the fact that Aramis seemed unable to take comfort from Porthos. In fact, it seemed as if Porthos was somehow the cause of his distress. 

"Master..." Aramis choked out as he clung to d'Artagnan. Everything was roiling and churning inside of him making him feel sick. He didn't know what to think anymore. All he knew right then was that he was safe within his Master's arms.

"It's alright," d'Artagnan whispered. "I need you to listen to me. Can you do that, Little One?"

"Yes, Master."

"We are going to go to our room. I am going to help you undress and then you are going to explain to me what has happened," d'Artagnan instructed. "Can you do that?"

"Yes, Master."

D'Artagnan stepped back, releasing Aramis reluctantly. He was pleased when he did as he had been told and headed directly to their bedroom. He was not surprised when Aramis chose the second bedroom rather than the main one. His lover would not want the reminder of all of them around him right now. 

In the room, d'Artagnan closed the door behind them. He hesitated then locked it. He did not like the idea of a locked door standing between him and his brothers but he understood that Aramis needed it. That done, he moved up behind his lover. He could see how tense his boy was. Moving slowly, he let his hands come to rest on Aramis' shoulders. Only when his lover relaxed did he begin divesting him of his weapons and doublet. He set them aside then knelt down and removed Aramis' boots. Once his lover was down to just his shirt and breeches, d'Artagnan rose and took him in his arms again.

He felt Aramis shudder as he held him and ran his hands up and down his back for long minutes. He could tell the man was holding on by a thread and he needed to do something quickly. "Get on your knees," he said as he stepped back again. He waited until Aramis complied then ran his hand through his hair.

"Master..." Aramis moaned softly as the feel of his hand helped to ground him once more.

"Shh," d'Artagnan whispered. "Close your eyes and wait here. I will be back in but a moment." 

As soon as Aramis closed his eyes, d'Artagnan rushed into the other bedroom. He quickly took the leash and cuffs from the bureau then hurried back to his lover. He could tell that Aramis had tensed up again in his absence and winced. He only hoped this would help to calm the man enough for him to find out what had happened.

"It is alright," d'Artagnan said as he knelt down behind the other man. He felt Aramis stiffen when he pulled his hands behind his back and cuffed them in place. A moment later, his lover relaxed as he gave himself over to his Master's care. With his hands immobilized, he attached the leash then stood. Wrapping it around his hand, he gave it a gentle tug as he walked over to the bed.

Aramis felt the roil within him start to settle as his Master took control of him. The feel of the supple leather at his wrists filled him with a sense of safety. When his Master attached the leash to his collar and gave it a careful tug, he felt the last of his worry and confusion dissipate as smoke on the wind. His head bowed, Aramis slowly crawled beside his Master as he led him to the bed.

Understanding that Aramis needed his control to ground him, d'Artagnan sat down on the side of the bed. He spread his legs and used the leash to direct Aramis until he was kneeling between them. Normally, he would have found such a sight arousing, but his boy was in far too much distress for d'Artagnan to do anything other than worry.

"Keep your eyes closed," d'Artagnan directed softly. He was pleased when Aramis obeyed him at once. Keeping the leash wrapped around his hand, he used his other hand to stroke the side of his boy's face. 

Aramis felt his fears crumbling to dust under his Master's steady hand. When he bade him close his eyes, he did so willingly, trusting in the other man to take care of and protect him. When he felt his Master's hand upon his face, he could not stop himself from turning toward it, nuzzling the man's palm.

D'Artagnan continued to stroke his fingers along Aramis' face as the man kissed and lipped at his hand. He could feel Aramis relaxing the more he touched him and was relieved. After a few minutes, he slid his hand around to cradle his boy's skull, his fingers carding through his hair to gently massage his scalp. He knew that touching his hair was the single fastest way to get Aramis to relax and he used that knowledge now. 

It took some time, but at last Aramis let out a shuddering breath as his wayward emotions finally calmed. He kept his head bowed and his eyes closed as he concentrated on simply feeling. He breathed in and out in time to the movement of his Master's hand massaging him. He let it center him until his entire world had been reduced down to the feel of it and nothing more.

D'Artagnan waited until he was sure his boy had calmed, not wanting to rush things. He had no idea what had upset Aramis so badly and likely would not until the man explained it to him. For that, he needed Aramis calm. He knew he could go out and ask Porthos about it but he wanted to hear Aramis' take on whatever had happened first. 

"Little One?" He called softly, hoping his boy was finally calm enough.

"Yes, Master?"

"Can you tell me what happened?" D'Artagnan asked carefully. He felt Aramis tense and carded his fingers through his hair, gently petting him. "It is alright if you cannot yet. I will wait until you can."

Aramis took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. He let the feel of his Master's fingers running through his hair anchor and reassure him. His Master was here with him. He was safe. Nothing could harm him here.

It took a few more minutes but Aramis finally managed to raise his head, though he kept his eyes closed as his Master had directed. "Porthos and I went to the market," he began, licking his lips nervously. "We just wanted to get out of the house for a bit. Everything was fine until I went into the pastry shop."

"What happened then?" D'Artagnan prompted when Aramis fell silent.

"Porthos... Porthos waited outside for me. I just wanted to get something for desert, something you would like," Aramis continued. "But when I came out... when I came out..."

"Shh. Easy," d'Artagnan soothed. He could see that Aramis was growing agitated again and cupped the back of his head once more. 

Aramis ducked his head again and just breathed. Calm once more, he began again. "When I came out, Porthos wasn't alone. P-P-Pierre was there. He was... he was laughing with him. When I walked out, he looked me in the eyes. He wanted to make sure I knew he was there, that he could get to me no matter what I tried to do..."

"He is wrong," d'Artagnan said, his voice surprisingly calm as he forced the white-hot rage within him down. His anger would not help Aramis therefore it had no place here. 

"Yes, Master," Aramis replied, though the tremble in his voice showed his disbelief. 

"What did Porthos do when you came out?" D'Artagnan asked, wanting to get as much of the story as he could from Aramis himself. 

"He turned toward me. He could tell something was wrong. I could not even speak as he led me back to the house."

"Little One," d'Artagnan began, choosing his words carefully. "Was it simply the sight of him there that upset you so? Or was it that he was talking with Porthos?"

"They were _laughing_ ," Aramis moaned. "They were laughing together as if they were old friends. Has Porthos... has he been... has he known..."

"Little One, calm down," d'Artagnan soothed. "I know this has been a shock. I know you were not expecting to see him let alone see him with Porthos. But surely you know that Porthos would never betray you in such a manner. Whatever the reason for the pair of them to be speaking, it was not to betray you."

"I know," Aramis whispered, but his voice came out small and unsure. 

"You know this is what that monster wanted. He wanted to hurt you, to try to drive a wedge between you and those who care for you. The fact that he met your eyes when you came out of the shop tells me that."

"I want to believe you," Aramis whispered. "I cannot bear the thought of Porthos... of everything..."

"Aramis, look at me," d'Artagnan told him. He waited for Aramis to raise his head and meet his eyes. The pain and fear he saw there were staggering and d'Artagnan knew he had to find a way to fix this. "Do you truly believe Porthos capable of such a thing? Do you truly believe the man you have loved for all this time to be capable of such deception, of such utter cruelty? Does that ring upon your finger mean nothing?"

Kneeling there on the floor, Aramis stared into his Master's eyes as he took in his words. He was right. Porthos would never betray him in such a manner. He would never, could never, be so cruel to anyone, let alone one of his brothers. Had they not pledged themselves to each other, heart and soul? And yet, he had the audacity to doubt him, to doubt Porthos' love for him. 

"I am sorry," Aramis said, ashamed now of how he had reacted. He had not meant to doubt his lover, he truly had not. But seeing him there with Pierre, laughing and talking, had been more than he could take. 

"It's alright," d'Artagnan said, relieved that Aramis was finally calming enough to think straight rather than letting his fear run wild. "We would any of us understand such a reaction. It was simply bad luck that Porthos was the only one of us who could not recognize the bastard on sight."

"I... I need to talk to him," Aramis said, growing fearful now for a completely different reason. "I... I accused him..."

"Calm down, love," d'Artagnan said. "Porthos will understand. He will not hold your fear and panic against you. He loves you far too much for that."

Now that his panic had waned, he recalled the way Porthos had reached for him and the way he had turned him away. He felt a knot form in the pit of his stomach as he remembered the pain on his lover's face as he begged him to believe him. 

"Do you feel up to talking to him now?" D'Artagnan asked. Aramis was much calmer and understood that Pierre had orchestrated what had happened but he was unsure if he was ready to face Porthos just yet. "We can remain here if you are not."

"I... I need to..." Aramis stammered. He looked away, flushing hotly at showing such weakness to his Master. 

"Little One," d'Artagnan chided as he gently turned him back to face him. "Tell me what I can do. How can I make this easier on you?"

"Would you... would you come with me?" Aramis asked. He was ashamed at having to ask for such a thing but he truly did not know if he could face Porthos on his own without falling apart. Not after what he had done, what he had accused the man of.

"Always," d'Artagnan told him. "Do you want me to take the cuffs and leash off or do you wish to go to him as you are?" He knew Porthos would not particularly like seeing Aramis like this but he also knew the man would understand if his lover needed it.

"No," Aramis said, swallowing thickly. "I do not believe he would take it well."

"He will understand."

"Perhaps," Aramis acquiesced. "But he deserves for me to come to him on my feet, not on my knees."

"Very well then," d'Artagnan said, pleased by his decision. He removed the leash first then knelt down and removed the cuffs. Once Aramis' arms were free, he pulled the man against him, holding him tight. Only when he felt him relax against him did he let him go and rise.

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Athos stayed in the kitchen with Porthos until the man calmed. Once he was steadier, Athos led him into the sitting room, pushing him down on the sofa and going to light a fire in the hearth. He had managed at last to convince Porthos that Aramis did not truly believe he had betrayed him, that it had been his surprise and shock that had prompted his words. 

Porthos had latched onto that desperately. He did not know what he would do if Aramis did not believe him, if his lover thought him somehow in cahoots with Champney. He would strangle that bastard with his bare hands if that's what it took to make Aramis believe him, believe _in him_ again. 

Once he had a fire going, Athos sat down beside Porthos. He took his hand, unsurprised by the all but crushing grip Porthos returned. He was a hairsbreadth from panicking and Athos knew the only one who would be able to quell it was Aramis. He only hoped d'Artagnan had been able to get through to the man. Aramis and Porthos were devoted to each other. To see them at odds like this was heartbreaking. 

By the time they heard footsteps on the stairs, Athos had begun to worry. It would not bode well for either Aramis or Porthos if they had to force the men together. Aramis needed to come to him of his own free will, or at least under the appearance of such. It was the only way that Porthos would truly believe what he said.

As the footsteps grew closer, Porthos' hand tightened on Athos'. For all that he had calmed, he was still afraid. He had no idea what Aramis might say to him, if the man even deigned to speak to him at all. For all he knew, the Whelp could be coming to tell him to get out.

"Easy, brother," Athos murmured, leaning in closer. He could well imagine how scared Porthos had to be. He had gone through too many close calls with d'Artagnan not to commiserate. As painful as those memories were, they still gave him hope. If d'Artagnan could see past all of the errors he had made then surely Aramis could do the same.

Both men were watching the doorway, waiting for their brothers, and were surprised when Aramis walked in alone, d'Artagnan waiting just outside the doorway. Porthos sucked in a breath, unsure if this was a good sign or an extremely bad one. He felt Athos squeeze his hand, letting him know that he was there with him, then his attention was firmly focused on Aramis once more.

"Athos, would you mind excusing us for a few moments? I need to speak with Porthos," Aramis said calmly. It wasn't that he minded Athos being there when he apologized but he wanted Porthos to feel free to speak his mind.

Athos looked back and forth between the pair. When Porthos gave a slight nod, he released his hand and stood. "Of course," he said. He joined d'Artagnan in the doorway then the pair retreated to the kitchen to give their brothers some privacy while still remaining nearby.

Porthos looked up at Aramis standing in front of him and felt his heart start to hammer in his chest. He had no idea what to say, how to go about convincing his lover that he had not betrayed him. His hands started to shake as he continued to peer up at Aramis helplessly. 

Looking at his lover now, Aramis felt his guilt increase ten-fold. He had never seen Porthos look so afraid in all the years he had known him. That he only did so now, because of him, tore at him. Unable not to respond to the sight of his distress, he reached toward him. When Porthos actually flinched away from him, Aramis thought he would be sick. 

"Please," he beseeched softly as he carefully cupped Porthos' jaw. 

Porthos sucked in a breath and stared at Aramis. His lover's eyes were wet and bright and he could tell he was struggling to hold back his emotions. "Aramis?"

"I am so very, very sorry," Aramis said. "I did not mean what I said. I was... I... I saw him and I panicked. I know you would never betray me. Please, love, can you forgi-"

Aramis found his words cut off as Porthos slid to his knees and jerked him into his arms. He buried his face against his stomach and breathed in deeply again and again, letting the scent and feel of his lover chase away his fear. Hot tears pricked at his eyes and he did not try to hold them back, letting the emotion pour from him as poison from a wound. 

He had been so scared. He did not think he had ever been so scared in all his life. There had been times in the past when he had been certain he was going to die, yet even then he had not been this afraid. For what was death, after all, when compared to a life without this man in it?

Taken by surprise when Porthos suddenly wrapped his arms around him, Aramis returned the embrace as best he could, holding Porthos' head against him. He felt his arms tighten around him even more as Porthos choked back what sounded like a sob and ran his hands over his neck and shoulders to calm him. 

"It's alright," Aramis soothed. "I'm so sorry, love. I did not mean it. I swear I did not. I love you, Porthos. I love you more than anything. Please, please forgive me."

Porthos tried to reply but he couldn't get the words out. Instead, he nuzzled his face against his lover's stomach, letting the feel of him ground him. He felt himself start to shake and squeezed his eyes shut tight. He was holding onto Aramis so tight he knew it had to be painful for the man but he could not seem to make himself let go, afraid that if he did Aramis would disappear. He thought he might better understand the fear Athos had felt when he and the Whelp were having such problems now.

"Porthos? Love, please," Aramis whispered, ashamed anew at the pain he had caused this man. Porthos had endured enough pain in his life without him adding to it. He only ever wanted to make Porthos' life better, not bring his lover to his very knees.

"Thought I'd lost you," Porthos whispered brokenly. "Didn't know what I'd do if you wouldn't believe me. I swear... I swear I didn't know it was him. Please, Aramis..."

"No, love. No," Aramis said. He began carding his fingers through his dense curls, as much to ease himself as Porthos. "You will never lose me. Never. I am so sorry that I made you doubt that. You are my world, Porthos."

They stayed like that for long minutes with Porthos' arms wrapped securely around Aramis' middle and the man gently running his fingers through his hair. Porthos' knees began to ache then grow numb but he made no move to rise. He was content to stay just like this for as long as his lover would allow it. 

&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M

"They will be alright," d'Artagnan said as he and Athos sat down at the table. "Aramis knows Porthos would never betray him. He let his fear get the better of him."

"We have all of us done that before," Athos said, relieved that d'Artagnan had managed to calm Aramis down. The look of true fear in Porthos' eyes had unsettled him more than he cared to admit. It was a harsh reminder of all the missteps he had made with d'Artagnan. He never wanted his brother to know that kind of pain, that kind of hopelessness. 

"We will not let them falter," d'Artagnan told him. For all of the complexities of their relationships, the bond between Aramis and Porthos was nearly sacred and he would do whatever he had to in order to protect it. He knew Athos felt the same which was why he could be so sure of it. Their brothers would not falter for they simply would not allow it.

"Did he tell you what happened?" Athos asked as the two of them began putting away the things from the market.

"Part of it," d'Artagnan replied. He felt the rage within him stirring again and had to force it back down. "He said that bastard was waiting for him when he came out of a shop. Said he looked right at him, made sure he knew he wasn't safe from him anywhere."

D'Artagnan had to stop and just breathe. He knew he had to get himself together if he was going to be of any help to his brothers but just the thought of that monster anywhere near Aramis was enough to have him seeing red. 

"I think it was the fact that they were laughing together when Aramis came out," d'Artagnan finally said. "I think, had they just been talking, he would not have reacted so strongly."

Athos nodded. "Champney made it seem as if they knew each other. As if they were old friends."

"I am going to kill that pig, Athos," d'Artagnan vowed. "I am going to make him pay for everything he has done to our brother. Him and his wife both."

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Pierre smiled brightly as he walked through the ornate doors of his home. He could still see the panic on Aramis' face as he took in the sight of him and his watchdog laughing together. It was only a matter of time now before he got his hands on him again. Sooner or later his keepers would make a mistake. They always did. 

"Marisol!" Pierre called out loudly, anxious to tell his wife the news. 

"What is it?" She replied as she entered the parlor.

"You'll never guess who I ran into at the market today," Pierre beamed. 

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La Oscuridad strained at the confines of its prison. It could perceive events all over the city now yet it still could not breech these walls. The force of its anger caused the forgotten vials on the table to shake. Soon it would be strong enough. Soon it would be able to leave this place. Soon, but not yet.

In the meantime, there was much to learn. It would seem it was not the only one bent on the utter destruction of the seminarian. It was not the only one who wanted him to suffer. No, it was not alone and there was such potential with these two. Both had hearts of evil but, on their own, they were small and petty. Together, however, they fed off one another, nurturing the evil within them to truly magnificent heights. 

It might still be trapped here for now, but that did not mean it was powerless. That did not mean it could not spread its influence. That did not mean that the seminarian was _safe_. No, it did not mean that at all. And by the time his dear brothers figured that out it would be far too late.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks, Snow_Glory for all of the help with this!! Hopefully RL will settle down some so I can write again.

After the run-in with Pierre, things slowly calmed though they all remained watchful. That the man would have the audacity to confront Aramis, even in a somewhat indirect way, angered them greatly. Aramis was struggling to assimilate back into life outside the maison as it was. They did not need Champney making it any harder on the man. Besides which, such boldness on his part spoke of confidence, either that he would not be held accountable or that Aramis would do as he had in the past and keep such information from them. Whatever the reason for his brazenness, it made him all the more dangerous.

After several days of his lovers nearly smothering him with their protectiveness, Aramis had had enough. It was not that he did not appreciate his lovers’ care for he did. He understood their worry. He would not, however, allow his fears to rule him. He had allowed Pierre and Marisol to drive him from his brothers before, forcing him to hide from them when he needed them the most. He refused to do so again. They were a threat and would need to be dealt with, but he was done letting them control his life.

Mind made up, Aramis decided that the first order of business was to renew his campaign to woo d’Artagnan. He knew the man did not begrudge him his need to turn to his Master of late. Still, he had actually been getting somewhere with the younger man and did not want to see all of his hard work go to ruin. 

He waited until d’Artagnan had gone to the kitchen to prepare their morning meal before telling the others of his plans. “If you two do not mind, I would spend some time with d’Artagnan today,” he said as they dressed.

“Everything alright?” Porthos asked, looking up sharply.

“All is well,” Aramis assured him quickly. “I simply do not want him to start thinking I see him as nothing more than my Master again. I had been making some headway before. I do not wish to lose what ground I have gained.”

“I do not believe you have anything to worry about, but I have no objection,” Athos said. “I may need to go to the garrison at some point, but Porthos can accompany me just as easily.”

“Yeah, you do what you need to, love. Me and Athos’ll keep ourselves busy,” Porthos agreed.

“Thank you,” Aramis said softly. “I know you are reluctant to leave the two of us alone together. I give you my word…”

“Aramis,” Athos broke in, shaking his head. “It is not a lack of trust that fuels my caution. I only worry for what might happen should you and d’Artagnan encounter Champney on your own. And it is not that I doubt the ability of either of you to defend yourselves or each other. But our young Gascon is not known for his calm, even temper and I have no wish for him to have to flee Paris to avoid the hangman’s noose.”

“Athos has a point,” Porthos agreed. “And after the stunt the bastard pulled when we were at the market, well, it’s clear he doesn’t think us much of a deterrent.”

“No, you are right,” Aramis sighed. “He thinks he can get to me no matter what I do. In all fairness, that has proven the case more times than naught in the past. But I understand what you are saying. If he should be so bold in front of d’Artagnan I doubt I would be able to hold him back, if I could still function at all.”

“Stop that,” Porthos admonished softly. “Anyone would have reacted as you did. You were not expecting him to flaunt himself like that.”

“Porthos is correct,” Athos added. “You were not expecting him to be so bold. You were caught off-guard. However, you will not be again.”

“Thank you,” Aramis said, his voice strained. “That you do not find me weak because of this… I do not have the words.”

“We will never find you weak, love. Never.”

Aramis waited until they had all finished eating before pulling d’Artagnan away from the kitchen and back toward the spare bedroom. Athos and Porthos had waived the pair away with a grin as they cleaned up. They hoped Aramis’ return to his plans to woo d’Artagnan would put them both more at ease. It was in times like this where they got a glimpse of their confident lover and it heartened them. 

“What’s going on?” d’Artagnan asked as Aramis shut the bedroom door behind them.

“Nothing really,” Aramis replied. He turned and closed the short distance between them, standing in front of the younger man. Smiling softly, he leaned forward and slowly brought their lips together. He felt d’Artagnan go still beneath him then he was all but melting against him, his mouth opening with a moan.

D’Artagnan was surprised when Aramis leaned forward and pressed their lips together. That surprise quickly turned to want and he found himself moaning into their kiss. He did not understand how Aramis could nearly drive him to his knees with but a touch and he did not care. At the moment, all he cared about was losing himself in the other man.

Aramis gently pulled his mouth away and winced at the soft keening sound d’Artagnan made. “Easy, love. I am here,” he soothed as he kissed along his cheek and jaw. Wanting to touch as much of him as he could, he pulled d’Artagnan flush against him. He felt him relax once again and set about laying quick kisses all along his face until his lips grazed his ear.

“It is alright. I am here,” Aramis whispered again as he simply held him. “Oh my sweet boy. Have I been remiss once again? Have you needed me and I was not there?”

“No,” d’Artagnan shook his head even as he buried his face against the side of Aramis’ neck. 

“Then what is it?” Aramis asked. While he had expected a reaction from the man, this was far and above anything he had imagined. 

“Just… just missed this,” d’Artagnan whispered, flushing darkly at the admission. “I did not realize how much I had come to enjoy this… to look forward to it… until it suddenly was not there.”

“D’Artagnan,” Aramis gasped, squeezing his eyes shut at his lover’s words. “Why did you not say anything?”

“I did not wish to be a burden,” d’Artagnan replied.

“D’Artagnan…”

“You were struggling,” d’Artagnan continued. “Being back here was harder on you than you had thought it would be. I did not want to add to that.”

“Listen to me,” Aramis told him, his voice firm but gentle. “I have struggled since our return here, yes. But you are never a burden. Do you hear me? I could never see your love for me, your need for me, as a burden. Please do not hide yourself from me, love.”

D’Artagnan nodded against his neck, unable to do anything else as he took in Aramis’ words. He could tell his lover meant them and it eased something inside of him. He knew there was more to them than simply his mastery of Aramis. He had not begun to doubt that again but he had hidden his desire, his need, from the man. He had to wonder if it was not long past time he stopped hiding.

“Love?” Aramis called a bit worried after several long minutes of silence. 

Taking a breath, d’Artagnan lifted his head. He met his lover’s eyes, searching them for any sign that he was, perhaps, rushing things. When he saw nothing but love and concern reflected back at him he knew it was time.

“Can we make love?” d’Artagnan asked, his voice hesitant, as if he was genuinely afraid of what Aramis’ answer might be.

“I would like nothing more,” Aramis told him. “But are you sure this is what you want? I know you did not wish to take this step with me before.”

“It was not that,” d’Artagnan said quickly. “It was never that I did not want you that way. I did. I do. But I wanted it to be us, as we are now, rather than with me acting as your Master. I know it is as Athos said, that I do not stop being your Master simply because I am not acting the part, but…”

“I understand,” Aramis told him. “You wanted us to come together in this way as equals. As… as brothers. So I must ask again, are you certain you wish to do this? Do you believe that I see you as the man you are?”

“Yes,” d’Artagnan smiled softly. “I realize now that you never stopped seeing me for exactly who and what I am. It was I that lost sight of us.”

Aramis felt a weight lift from him at d’Artagnan’s words. When Athos had first told him of this, he had despaired of ever convincing the rather stubborn young man that he was wrong. To know that he had, that d’Artagnan believed in him… in them… once again made his heart swell. 

“I love you so very much,” Aramis said as he began peppering his face with kisses once more. “Your constant care and devotion have done so much for me. You have shielded me and healed me in ways that no one else ever could and I will love you until the end of my days.”

“Aramis…” d’Artagnan moaned, the man’s words having as profound an effect on him as they always did. It still floored him that a man such as Aramis would somehow find him worthy and that knowledge made the dark places inside of him the tiniest bit brighter.

Deciding they had spent long enough talking, Aramis covered d’Artagnan’s mouth with his own once more. He kissed him slowly, letting himself simply enjoy the taste and feel of his lover like this. For as frenetic as they could be at times with their love making, Aramis knew that now was not the time for that. Now was for finally showing the man in his arms how very cherished he was as he strove to return even a tenth of the care that d’Artagnan had bestowed upon him.

Aramis kept them there, standing in the center of the room, his hands gripping him by the waist as he kissed him thoroughly. He did not let up until he felt d’Artagnan’s own hands grasping at his hips, fine tremors running through his body. Even then, he did not pull away immediately. Instead, he gentled his kisses even more, placing quick pecks all over his mouth and chin as he eased him out of it. 

“Please,” d’Artagnan panted as he stood shaking. He was not even sure what it was he was begging for. He had never felt so undone. Not like this. They had all had intense encounters before but never had there been such gentleness involved. Never had it been at _Aramis’_ hand. 

“What do you want?” Aramis asked after giving him a moment to collect himself. He began backing them toward the bed, knowing they needed to lie down before they ended up in a heap on the floor. Even with d’Artagnan’s earlier admission, he was still surprised by the strength of the younger man’s reaction and had to wonder if it was simply that they were finally taking this step after so long or if there was something else driving this.

“You,” d’Artagnan told him. “Want you. Want you to take me. To finally make me yours.”

“You are already mine,” Aramis replied, his voice calm and sure. He stopped them beside the bed and began divesting the other man of his clothes. He was again surprised by the docile way d’Artagnan allowed him to do as he would, seemingly content to let him lead in this. “You have been mine since… since you kissed me on the neck that first time so long ago. I do not need to lay claim to your body for you to belong to me completely. But I will still gladly do so.”

Once he had him stripped to the skin, Aramis kissed him hotly, pressing him back and down onto the bed even though he, himself, was still fully clothed. D’Artagnan went willingly and Aramis had to bite back a moan of his own at the younger man’s easy capitulation as he allowed himself to be pressed down. 

Only when both of them were nearly breathless did Aramis pull back. He was kneeling over his lover and when he looked into his eyes, he saw a wild mix of emotions ranging from love to lust to no small amount of trepidation. It was this last that had him reaching down and cupping his jaw, his thumb tracing over his slightly parted lips.

“I’m alright,” d’Artagnan whispered when he saw the concern in Aramis’ eyes. He had no idea why he was so very affected by this. It was as if they were laying together for the very first time and he struggled with the enormity of it.

Aramis watched him for a bit longer then nodded. Sitting up, he began to quickly shed his own clothes. He was mindful to remain in contact with the other man as he did so, understanding instinctively that he needed such closeness right now. Finally naked, he moved back over his lover on his hands and knees then leant down to steal his lips in another deep kiss.

D’Artagnan moaned softly as he eagerly opened his mouth to Aramis. He could feel the man’s chest brushing lightly against his own. It made him ache, his nipples tightening, and he pressed upward desperate to feel more of him. His cock had grown hot and heavy between his legs but he ignored it in favor of concentrating on his lover’s kisses. Aramis kissed with a passion that was nearly overwhelming in its intensity and he was happy to spend as long as the man wanted just like this.

“d’Artagnan,” Aramis moaned as he reluctantly pulled back. The feel of the man simply yielding to him was heady and his own cock throbbed. Gone was the brash and demanding young man he had come to know, replaced instead with the soft, eager creature spread out beneath him. It made want sizzle along his veins in a way he was unaccustomed to with this man. Always before he had been on his knees to one degree or another. Never before had they come to each other on such equal footing, Aramis’ seduction of him notwithstanding.

Looking up at his lover, d’Artagnan could see the emotions whirling through his lover’s eyes. He sucked in a breath at the sharp flare of lust, flushing at the confident gleam he saw. He had seen this look directed at the others before but it had been a very long time since he had seen it cast in any of their directions and never before at him. To see the return of his self-assured lover, even for a short time, made his heart swell and he vowed to do whatever was necessary to see him back for good.

“Your eyes reveal so much,” Aramis said as he continued to study him. 

“What do they tell you?” d’Artagnan asked unsure how Aramis had been able to discern anything from the wild jumble of thoughts spinning through his head.

“That you are happy. That you want this more than you ever dreamed,” Aramis replied. “That you… that you…”

“Aramis?”

“That you have not been complete,” Aramis said after taking a breath. “And that you know this is the piece that has been missing. Oh my sweet boy. I love you so much.”

“I love you, too,” d’Artagnan said roughly. “I think… I think I always have. It was one of the reasons I was so afraid back in the beginning. It was not just Athos I was scared of losing.”

Aramis’ eyes widened as he took in d’Artagnan’s words. He scanned his face, looking for any sign of falsehood or uncertainty. He felt his heart give a painful lurch when he saw nothing but honest love and devotion directed back at him. It had not even occurred to him at the time that anyone other than Athos had managed to breach the nearly impenetrable walls the boy had surrounded his heart with. He genuinely ached when he remembered the looks of jealousy he had cast his way as well as the confusion the younger man had admitted to.

“What’s wrong? What did I say?” d’Artagnan asked when Aramis’ eyes betrayed his growing distress.

“That you had feelings for me, that you loved me, even when I held myself back from you, when I was mistrustful and petty…”

“No. Aramis, no,” d’Artagnan countered at once. “You did not know. How could you when I did not truly realize myself? You gave me what you could and I am more thankful for that than I can convey.”

Knowing that if they continued to talk of this he would lose all composure, Aramis leaned down and kissed him once more. He lowered his body, letting his weight come to rest on the man and was rewarded with the feel of his lover’s arms wrapping around him. As they kissed, Aramis felt one of d’Artagnan’s hands move up and down his back as the other cradled his skull. 

The feel of d’Artagnan encompassing him stoked the fire inside of him once more and he deepened their kiss, driving his tongue into his lover’s mouth. D’Artagnan’s hardness was pressing into his hip as his own did likewise and he could not resist the urge to grind down against the other man.

D’Artagnan’s arm tightened around Aramis’ waist when the man ground against him. He felt Aramis start to pull back from their kiss but he refused to let him, holding his head in place and pressing upward as he caressed Aramis’ tongue with his own. When Aramis relaxed against him, he loosed his grip, allowing the kiss to gentle. When Aramis drew his tongue back this time, d’Artagnan chased it with his own, sliding inside the man’s mouth as he sucked and licked every part of him that he could reach. 

He felt Aramis move his hips again, pressing against him as his body blindly sought more friction. It was all he could do not to roll them over and simply rut against the man until they both spent. That was not what either of them wanted, though, and he reluctantly allowed Aramis to pull away. 

“You set my blood on fire,” Aramis groaned. “It is all I can do not to slick your cock and impale myself on it, riding you until we both spend.”

“It is no different for me,” d’Artagnan husked. “I am having to fight not to flip us over and buy myself inside of you.”

“Next time,” Aramis promised him. “Next time you can shove me down and fuck me as hard as you want.”

“Next time,” d’Artagnan agreed eagerly. 

“But for now, I need to make you ready for me.” He saw d’Artagnan open his mouth and shook his head. “I know you do not mind a bit of pain, that you like it even, but I have no wish to cause you pain in this. Not now. Not this time.”

“Alright,” d’Artagnan agreed, licking his lips as he tried to will his body calm. 

Both men moaned when Aramis' slick fingers breached him for the first time. Aramis stilled then, simply enjoying the feeling of being inside his lover for the first time. He could feel the man's body gripping at him, and could easily imagine how that tight channel would feel on his cock. Knowing neither of them could hold out for long, he began to prepare him in earnest, pressing his fingers in deep then spreading them. 

D'Artagnan spread his legs wide, baring himself as much as he could. He keened when Aramis began to fuck him with his long, talented fingers. His cock was hard and dripping against his belly and he had to fight to keep from closing his eyes, not wanting to miss the wealth of emotions that passed over Aramis' face.

When d'Artagnan could take his fingers easily, Aramis pulled them out. He quickly coated his aching cock with yet more oil then wiped his hand haphazardly on the blanket. Pushing one leg up, he pressed the head of his cock against his lover's loosened hole, pulling a low moan from the man. 

"Ready?" Aramis asked, waiting.

"Please," d'Artagnan begged. He needed to feel Aramis laying claim to him at last. 

"I love you," Aramis said as he leaned down and kissed him. A moment later, he began to press forward carefully. He gasped into the younger man's mouth when his body yielded and his cock slid inside. He stilled when he felt his body clamp down on him, giving him a moment to adjust. When the pressure began to ease he carefully pressed forward again. 

They were panting into each other's mouths by the time Aramis was all the way inside of him. D'Artagnan clung to him tightly, not wanting so much as a sliver of space between them. To feel Aramis like this, over and inside of him, was almost too much. It was as if the last piece of his heart was finally sliding into place, making him whole for the first time in what felt like forever.

"D'Artagnan," Aramis moaned. His lover's body gripped him tightly, that hot channel squeezing him and making his bollocks throb. Many times he had dreamed of what this moment would be like. However, none of those dreams even came close to this feeling of rightness.

"Love you," d'Artagnan whispered, his eyes locked on Aramis' face. He could see that the man was just as affected as he was and it awed him. He had known their joining would mean something to Aramis but he not expected it to mean _so much_.

Aramis leaned down and kissed him again, pushing his tongue in deeply and pulling a strangled moan from the man. Holding himself still, he continued to kiss his lover until he felt him relax around him. Slowly he broke their kiss and pushed himself back up on his arms. He saw d'Artagnan open his mouth but he pulled back and thrust forward gently turning whatever he was going to say into a gasping moan. 

From the first move of Aramis inside of him, d'Artagnan was lost. To feel Aramis taking him this way was a dream come true for him. Gripping Aramis by the arms, he locked eyes with him once more and gave himself over to their joining. 

Aramis felt his lover go soft and pliant beneath him and had to fight to keep from slamming into him. He did his best to keep the pace steady, riding out the feel of the other man like this for as long as he could. All too soon, however, he felt the unmistakable tingling deep in his spine and knew he would not last much longer. Carefully, he snaked a hand between them and wrapped it around d'Artagnan's flushed cock.

D'Artagnan could not stop from crying out and bucking his hips when Aramis' hand wrapped around his cock. It took him from close to teetering on the brink in a second. His visceral reaction caused his lover to snap his hips forward, driving into him deeply and pulling another cry from him.

It did not last long after that. D'Artagnan's reaction had turned Aramis' blood to fire and he began fucking into him faster and faster as he stroked his cock. A few strong thrusts later and d'Artagnan stiffened and began to keen as his cock jerked. 

Aramis moaned loudly at the feel of d'Artagnan finding his completion beneath him. The hard cock in his hand jerked then began to spend, striping his stomach and chest wetly. Aramis' own cock throbbed and he snapped his hips forward again and again until he finally thrust in hard and stilled, his own release pouring out of him and into his lover's willing body.

They lay panting together, Aramis atop d'Artagnan, for long minutes as both of their bodies calmed. As carefully as he could, Aramis pulled out and pushed himself up. Taking up a corner of the blanket, he hastily wiped them down then stretched out beside his spent lover. He felt his heart lurch when d'Artagnan turned to him at once, wrapping his arms around him and burying his face against his neck.

"It's alright," Aramis soothed as he held him. "I am here, love."

"Love you so much," d'Artagnan whispered as he relaxed against the other man.

"No more than I do you, precious boy," Aramis replied.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to Snow_Glory for all of the help and suggestions on this one.

Aramis took a deep breath, trying to steady his ever-growing nerves. He was dressed in his full uniform, the leathers cleaned until they were spotless. He could see the Captain, his own uniform immaculate, as he stood in the center of the courtyard next to Father Michel. His brothers were there, as well as the rest of the garrison, each dressed in his finest as they gathered to honor the Captain on this most special day.

"You look as nervous as I feel," Constance said as she smoothed down the front of her simple white dress for the fourth time. She had made it herself, embellishing it with tiny blue fleur-de-lis. She had thought it came out rather well and could not wait for Jean to see her in it. 

"I must admit, I do feel a bit... ill at ease," Aramis admitted as he offered her his arm. "I do not want to do anything to spoil this moment for you. It is... it is such a beautiful thing, to see two people committing themselves one to another. I only wish..."

Aramis looked away then, letting his words trail off. He wished that he could have such a thing with his lovers. But even if there were only two of them, the mere fact that they were men was enough to deny them the privilege. Shaking his head, he tried to brush aside such thoughts. Now was for Constance and the Captain. That he would never be able to stand before those he cared for and declare himself was not important. There would be time enough later to ponder the unfairness of the world they lived in. 

"Ready?" Aramis asked as he smiled at her as confidently as he could.

The ceremony was simple yet beautiful. Father Michel had happily officiated, smiling almost as widely as the happy couple while doing so. It was Captain Treville's expression that everyone kept returning to, though. They had seen the man smile, of course, but none of them had ever seen him so happy, so truly joyous, as he was in that moment. It made even the most hardened of his soldiers feel privileged to be allowed to witness it.

The celebration lasted long into the night with all of the king's Musketeers in attendance as well as some few friends of the Captain's prior acquaintances. It was clear that the Captain had been quite touched by the regard of his men, not having expected such unwavering support. Constance had been touched as well by how warmly she was received. It was not that she had doubted her place here but to be so openly welcomed still made her heart feel light. 

"I have never seen you so happy," d'Artagnan remarked as he shared a dance with the bride.

"I have never felt this way before," she replied as she clung to his arm. "I had never thought to find someone like him, someone to accept me for who I am rather than who they wanted me to be."

"I am happy for you. You deserve this. You both do. Just remember, if you have need of us, we will be there for you. You may be his wife now, but you are still our sister."

"Congratulations, Captain," Athos said as he came up beside the man. He had been standing against the railing, splitting his time between watching d'Artagnan and Constance dance and watching Aramis and Michel talk.

"Thank you," Treville said warmly. "I had never thought to have something like this. I still wonder if it isn't all just some dream and I will wake and find myself alone once more."

"It is no dream, Sir," Athos replied. "But I do understand the sentiment. There were many times in the past when I felt the same. Some days I still wonder at it all."

They lapsed into silence for a few moments as they watched the goings on around them. Finally, Treville broke the silence once more. "How is Aramis doing?"

"He is coping," Athos said carefully. 

"Is there something I need to know about?"

"No, Sir," Athos said at once. "Not yet at least. I am hoping the situation can be resolved soon. For Aramis' peace of mind if nothing else."

"And to keep d'Artagnan from doing anything rash, I would guess."

"Just so."

"That went well," d'Artagnan said as they headed back to their home. They had stayed to see Constance and the Captain off then made their goodbyes, leaving one of the senior men in charge for the night. Athos would be back before first light to begin his duties of overseeing the garrison in Treville's absence. For tonight, though, things were well in hand and they were free to enjoy each other's company.

"Yes," Aramis said. Try as he might he was unable to keep the note of wistfulness from his voice. He truly did not mean to act so covetous, but it was difficult when the very thing he longed for was paraded in front of him yet forever out of his reach.

"What's wrong?" D'Artagnan asked, picking up on Aramis' somber mood. 

"Nothing," Aramis replied. 

"Aramis?" Porthos called, frowning.

"Forgive me, brothers," Aramis sighed. "I do not mean to dampen the festivities."

"You have not," Athos told him. "But tell us what it is that troubles you."

"I do not mean to seem petty. I am truly happy for them. Yet I cannot help but want that, too. I want what everyone else is afforded without thought. I want to stand before our friends and brothers and pledge myself to you yet it is denied me.”

“Such desires do not make you petty, Aramis,” d’Artagnan told him. “Do you not know it is the same for me? I dare say it is the same for all of us.”

“Yet we cannot,” Aramis said dejectedly. “Because our love does not fit what society deems as right, we are forever denied it. Sometimes I wonder…”

“What?” Porthos asked when Aramis trailed off. His lover’s words of longing and denial had his heart thundering in his chest.

“If we are not the ones who are wrong,” Aramis said softly. 

“Do you truly believe the love we feel for each other to be an abomination?” d’Artagnan asked as calmly as he could. He could see that his lover was hurting badly. He did not mean what he said, it was only his pain speaking, but it needed to be addressed before such a thought could take root and grow.

“No,” Aramis said, shaking his head vehemently. He would never consider his love for these men as anything other than sacred. God had brought these men into his life for a reason. He had no right to doubt that now. 

“I know it pains you that we are denied something so simple, but do not let that pain blind you to what you do have,” Athos cautioned gently. “We are here and we love you. Let that be enough.”

Aramis nodded, unable to reply. He had not meant to make it seem like their love was not enough for him. Their love meant everything to him. It was what kept him going when he was at his weakest. He truly did not know how to go on without it any more.

They continued on in silence, each of them thinking of what Aramis had said. He was right. It was not fair that something as simple, as commonplace, as marriage was forever outside of their reach. Not only was marriage outside of their reach, but even the ability to be together without fear of discovery, to openly show the affection they felt for each other, was denied them. It was no wonder Aramis had turned so melancholy at the notion.

Back at home, Athos cast a quick glance at his brothers. A quick nod of his head toward Aramis had both Porthos and d'Artagnan smiling softly and signaling their own agreement. They might not be able to stand before all and sundry and proclaim their love but that did not mean they could not show this man how very much he meant to them.

"I'll lock up down here," d'Artagnan said as Athos took hold of Aramis' hand.

"Meet us upstairs, yeah?" Porthos said as he stepped forward and did likewise. 

"What..." Aramis began, looking back and forth between the pair.

"Come with us, love," Athos said softly. He saw Aramis open his mouth to say something and quickly covered his lips with the fingers of his free hand. He held them there until Aramis nodded slightly then pulled them away. He gave his lover a soft kiss and began leading him through the house toward the master bedroom.

D'Artagnan watched the trio go before locking up the house for the night. His heart ached for Aramis, yet he knew there was little to be done for it. For all his strength, for all of the near cold calculation that his speciality as a marksman required of him, Aramis was truly the gentlest of them. His heart only survived because of the layers of armor he wrapped it in. Perhaps, if they tried hard enough, they could make Aramis forget about everything he could never have because he chose to love them.

Athos led Aramis up the stairs to the bedroom with Porthos bringing up the rear. Athos stopped in front of the bed and pulled Aramis into his arms. For long minutes, he just held him until he felt him start to relax in his embrace. Pulling back, he went to work on Aramis' belts, removing them one by one. He handed each one to Porthos who laid it on the bureau. 

Athos continued to strip him until he was down to his smalls. He hesitated then, glancing at Porthos, but a nod from him encouraged him and he quickly stripped Aramis out of them as well. He pulled him into his arms again then and kissed him gently. When he felt Aramis begin to tremble, he pulled back. 

"I've got him," Porthos said as he stepped up behind Aramis and pulled him back against him. 

Athos reluctantly let him go so he could hastily strip out of his own clothes. Once he was naked as well, he tugged Aramis back into his arms. This kiss, though as tender as the last, was much more heated. Athos stroked his tongue against Aramis' own, mapping out the inside of his mouth until the man was moaning. He could feel Aramis' half-hard cock between them and it made his own cock start to fill and thicken. A few feet away he could sense Porthos undressing but that wasn't important. The only thing that mattered to Athos in that moment was the man in his arms.

Wanting to get Aramis lying down so he could truly lay worship to him, he slowly broke their kiss. The keening sound Aramis made tore at him and he quickly maneuvered them onto the bed. He registered the sound of the door quietly closing and knew d'Artagnan had joined them but that, too, was of little importance. Instead, he concentrated all of his attention on Aramis as he stretched out beside him and pulled him into another tender kiss.

"We love you," Athos said when he pulled back again. He pushed himself up so he was leaning over Aramis and rested his forehead against the other man's. " _I_ love you. You are my heart and have been since long before that cursed mission to Flamare. I cannot even remember a time when I did not love you. I may have called it brotherhood but even then I was not being completely honest with myself. I have loved you for years, my Aramis. Without you, without your friendship and brotherhood, I would not even be here. You taught me how to live again when for so long all I wanted to do was die."

"A-A-Athos," Aramis stammered, awe-struck by his lover's words. He knew they were truthful, for Athos would never say such things otherwise. He had known that he and Porthos had helped the man see past the pain in his heart but he had never imagined that even then he played such a vital role.

"I love you," Athos said again. "I will love you until the day I leave this earth. Know that if I but could, I would see us wed. I, who had lost all faith in the vows of marriage, who had sworn never to bind himself to another in such a way again, would get down on my knees and _beg_ to be allowed such a privilege with you."

"Stop, please," Aramis gasped, fighting to maintain his composure. 

"No," Athos said gently as he placed a soft kiss to each of Aramis' damp eyes. "I will not stop. I will never stop telling you all that you mean to me. I will never stop making sure that you understand how vital you are to me. You mean so very much to me. I wish I had the words to convey how much I love you."

"You... you do not need words," Aramis said, blinking his eyes rapidly to try to keep his tears from falling. If he kept this up, his brothers were going to think him some simpering maiden given to fits of histrionics every other minute.

"Do I not?" Athos asked.

"No," Aramis told him. "You show all that you feel for me every minute of every day. Even then, even when words such as these do not come easy for you, you still make the effort. You still search until you find those very words that set my heart at ease even as they enflame it anew with all that I feel for you."

Staring down into Aramis' eyes, Athos could easily see the raging emotions that ebbed and flowed within them. His brother was right about one thing, he was much more accustomed to showing his feelings than voicing them. Perhaps it was time to do just that once more.

Leaning down, Athos slowly brought their mouths together again. As they kissed, he felt the bed shift and knew the others had joined them. He did not break their kiss, though, leaving Porthos and d'Artagnan to their own devices. Aramis was his one and only concern in this moment as he set about showing everything he had so clumsily attempted to voice.

As Athos focused all of his attention on Aramis, Porthos and d'Artagnan moved in, coming to lay on either side of the pair. They felt Aramis give a start when they reached out to touch him as well and quickly gentled their touches to be no more than the lightest of caresses. 

"If this is too much, Porthos and I can move back," d'Artagnan whispered. He did not want to leave, nor he knew did Porthos, but they would both rather that than end up distressing Aramis again. They all understood that his emotions were somewhat volatile right now and were being exceedingly careful not to overwhelm him.

"No, stay," Aramis gasped as he pulled his mouth away from Athos'. He knew he was not exactly being fair but he could not help himself. He needed them, all of them, there with him close enough to touch and feel.

"Easy, love," Porthos soothed. "We won't leave you. We're right here. We love you and we're never leaving you. You belong to us, whether we can proclaim it for all the world to know or not."

"Oh," Aramis keened. Porthos' words, like Athos', were a balm, soothing and healing the bruised parts of his soul.

"Listen to Porthos," d'Artagnan added as he moved his hand up to gently squeeze the back of Aramis' neck. The motion pressed the supple leather of his collar into his skin, providing yet another reminder that he was not only cherished but _owned_.

Athos managed to tear his gaze away from Aramis to look at his brothers. He could see the same desire he felt burning in their eyes as well. Before this night was over, Aramis would know beyond a doubt that his lovers were as devoted to him as any man could ever hope to be to his wife. And if they had to repeat the lesson for it to take hold, well, he did not think his brothers would mind overly much.

"How do you want to do this?" Porthos asked.

"Put him on his hands and knees," d'Artagnan said after a moment's thought. "You and Athos can both take him while I use my mouth on him."

Athos looked at d'Artagnan, quirking an eyebrow as he considered his suggestion. They had never all three of them taken him at once before. He and Porthos had shared him several times but d'Artagnan had never joined in with them, usually preferring to hold himself back and observe from a distance. Apparently, their youngest could not bear the thought of being even that far from Aramis right now. It was a sentiment Athos could understand all too well.

Turning his attention back to Aramis, Athos wasn't surprised to find his eyes blown wide with lust as he stared up at him. "Do you want that, my love?" Athos asked, caressing the side of his face. He let his thumb trail over Aramis' lips as his lover tried to think clearly enough to reply. As soon as his lips parted, Athos pushed his thumb inside, stroking it over Aramis' tongue in a blatant sign of possession.

Aramis mewled when Athos pressed his thumb into his mouth. The feel of that rough digit rubbing against his tongue made his cock throb and he would have arched upward if he had any strength left in him to do so. His lovers' tender care, however, had robbed him of the ability to do more than simply lay there and take whatever they chose to give him.

"I want his mouth," Porthos said, eyeing the way Athos managed to reduce the other man to near helplessness with ease. "That alright with you?"

"Perfect," Athos said as he continued to push his thumb in and out of Aramis' mouth in a simulation of things to come. He could feel the man doing his best to lave the digit and it made his own cock twitch. "You like the sound of that, don't you, Aramis?" 

Aramis couldn't speak, not without dislodging Athos' thumb and he had no intention of doing that. Instead, he nodded as best he could with d'Artagnan still holding firmly to his neck. He wanted that. He wanted to feel Porthos taking his mouth while Athos sank inside of him. The very thought was enough to have him shaking in want as he stared up at the three men surrounding him.

"Of course you do," Athos said as he slowly pulled his thumb free. He savored the feel of it sliding past Aramis' spit-slick lips and couldn't resist placing a soft kiss to those red and swollen lips once it was free. "You want us inside of you. You want to feel us everywhere at once, taking you and making you ours."

"Yes," Aramis managed to rasp, his throat already sounding well-used. 

"So good," d'Artagnan praised. "Always so good for us. Do you have any idea how beautiful you look right now?"

"D'Artagnan," Aramis moaned. The feel of his hand on his neck, the constant pressure, was just one more reminder of their claim on him. That knowledge, that he was owned, that he belonged to these men without reservation, was like a living thing inside of him. It pulsed in time with his heartbeat and made it feel as though there was not room enough inside of him to hold it all. 

"You are ours," d'Artagnan told him. "Just as we are yours. Completely. We do not need some ceremony or rite to make it so. We do not need to profess ourselves in front of others. _We_ know that we are bound together. _We_ know that what we have is real and true and forever."

Athos had to force himself to pull away from Aramis so that they might move him as d’Artagnan had suggested. Even then, the soft keening sound he let out made Athos ache. He nodded to d’Artagnan and the younger man reluctantly released his hold on Aramis’ neck and moved back. Athos and Porthos wasted no time. They carefully pulled Aramis up onto his knees then turned him around so that his back was to Athos. Athos held him there for a moment, giving d’Artagnan time to lay down on the bed then Porthos was gently pulling him forward and down so that he was on his hands and knees with d’Artagnan spread out beneath him.

“You okay, Whelp?” Porthos asked as he cupped Aramis’ cheek. His lover’s eyes still held that wild, desperate look about them. Porthos only hoped what they were doing would be enough to chase it away, at least for a time.

“I’m good,” d’Artagnan replied, his voice somewhat muffled by Aramis’ body above him. Aramis’ prick was only semi-hard as it hung between his legs, giving testament to the turmoil inside of him. Any other time, he would have been hard and aching simply from the thought of all of them touching him at once. 

As Porthos settled Aramis in place, Athos reached into the bedside table for the oil they kept there. “If at any time you need to move, d’Artagnan, tell us. I do not intend for this encounter to be over quickly.”

“Take what time you wish, brother,” d’Artagnan said as he reached up and placed a steadying hand on Aramis’ hip. “I shall be fine where I am.”

Taking him at his word, and knowing Porthos would likely keep a watchful eye on both him and Aramis, Athos coated his fingers liberally with the oil then set it aside where it would not spill. Just the scent of it was enough to have his cock twitching in anticipation. He knew he would never be able to smell this scent again without it taking him back to this moment in time.

Athos began slowly stroking his slick fingers up and down Aramis' cleft, making him moan softly and try to spread his legs the tiniest bit wider. Athos rewarded him by pressing his fingers directly against his hole, though he did not breech him. 

"Please," Aramis begged brokenly. He was almost desperate to feel Athos' fingers inside of him. He needed to feel connected to these men in every possible way, needed it to chase away the final remnants of the fear that had taken hold of him. 

"Shh, it's alright," Porthos soothed. He cradled Aramis' face in his hand and had to bite his lip when Aramis turned his face into his palm and nuzzled. 

D'Artagnan remained silent as he lay beneath them all. He let his arms wrap around around Aramis' thighs, touching as much of his skin as he could. He could understand his lover's anxiety, he truly could. He had despaired so many times of his place with these men, it was easy to see how Aramis might come to doubt. But just as his brothers did not allow his own doubts and fears to fester, they would not allow Aramis' to either. That was what this was all about, showing their lover that he was cherished regardless of what the rest of the world might think.

Gripping his hip to hold him steady, Athos slowly sank his finger inside Aramis' tight body. He felt him tense for a moment then relax, his body welcoming him into it. Athos had to bite back a moan of his own at the feel of Aramis' hot channel gripping his finger. His cock jerked again, eager to be inside the man. Athos refused to rush things, though. This experience, more than any other, needed to be a good one for Aramis in every way. That included not causing his lover even the slightest discomfort when he took him. 

"Is Athos being good to you, love?" Porthos asked as Aramis continued to nuzzle his palm. 

"Yes," Aramis moaned. "He always... always is."

"That's because he loves you," Porthos told him, having to fight to keep his own emotions in check. "He loves you more than anything, Aramis. We all do. You're everything to us."

"Porthos..." Aramis gasped into his hand, kissing his palm again and again. He did not understand how he of all people could come to have such men in his life. He did not deserve them. He never had. Yet here they were all the same. Even at his darkest, at his worst, they had never once turned from him. 

"It is the truth," D'Artagnan added. He turned his head to the side and placed a single, soft kiss to Aramis' thigh. "We love you. You... you rule us and we willingly bow our necks to you."

"I do not deserve..." Aramis began only for Porthos to cover his mouth effectively stopping his words.

"You deserve everything good we can give you," Porthos countered. "You deserve much better men than the likes of us, in truth."

"No," Aramis said, shaking his head free of Porthos' silencing hand. "There are no better men than the three of you. There could not possibly be."

"Alright, love," Porthos agreed, not wanting to argue the point. Arguing with Aramis was not their intent.

"Are you ready for a second finger?" Athos asked, bringing everyone's attention back to the matter at hand.

"Yes," Aramis groaned. He pushed his hips back as much as their hold on him would allow, letting Athos know he was not only ready but near desperate for it. He ached to feel them inside of him, taking him, owning him as only these three men could.

Athos eased his finger from Aramis then and pressed back in with two. He felt Aramis tense again, then his body was opening to him, almost drawing him inside. In one slow, smooth movement, he pressed his two fingers in to the hilt then held them there, allowing Aramis' body a chance to adjust. He could feel fine tremors starting to run through his body and stroked his hip with his free hand.

"You still okay down there, Whelp?" Porthos called. The lad had been unnaturally quiet for him and he wanted to make sure he was not feeling too penned in. This encounter was not likely to end soon and he wanted to make sure d'Artagnan still felt up to it.

"I am fine," d'Artagnan replied softly. He began peppering kisses all over Aramis' inner thigh. He was not trying to arouse him, instead simply wanting his lover to feel him and knew he was there with him as well.

Aramis could not stop himself from gasping and squirming at he feel of d'Artagnan's mouth on him. With his earlier turmoil dissipated in the face of his lovers' touches, his body was beginning to react. Between the feel of Athos' fingers inside of him and d'Artagnan's body spread out beneath him, he could not help but grow aroused. When he cast his eyes up at Porthos he felt another wave of lust roll through him at the blatant desire he saw.

"We're going to love you so good," Porthos told him as he stared down at him. He let his thumb brush over Aramis' bottom lip, tugging it down. He barely resisted the urge to push the digit inside. He wanted to feel that sinful mouth on his cock, not his thumb.

"You already are," Aramis replied. It was the truth. They were making his body sing between them. Just having them all here, like this, was making this encounter better than he could ever have imagined. 

"And it will only get better," Athos told him as he slid his fingers free. He took up the oil a final time and slicked his own hard and aching cock. "Are you ready?"

"Yes," Aramis replied at once. "Yes, Athos, please."

"Easy, love," Porthos soothed. He nodded at Athos then turned all of his attention back to Aramis. He had been keeping a tight hold on his desire, but having his lover's mouth mere inches from where he wanted it most was almost more than he could take.

Athos placed the head of his cock against Aramis' slick hole and paused. He gave him a moment to relax then began to slowly push inside. Aramis' body yielded to him easily after the slightest of resistance and Athos moaned loudly as he sank into him to the hilt. He stopped then and gripped Aramis' hips tightly. He actually bowed over his back as the sensation of being so thoroughly encased in Aramis' heat nearly undid him.

Aramis began to shake in earnest when Athos breached him. He gasped and keened when he sank into him all the way at once. He felt over full but he welcomed it, giving himself to his lovers to lay claim to him as they would. When he looked up at Porthos once more he saw the raw need in his eyes and strained forward as much as Athos' grip on his hips would allow. He wanted, no needed, to feel his lovers, all of his lovers, taking him.

"Yeah, alright," Porthos said, his voice gone husky with desire. His cock was hard and straining upward, eager to feel Aramis' mouth on it. Taking himself in hand, he guided his cock down to Aramis' waiting mouth. 

Porthos let out a gasp when Aramis opened his mouth, taking him in at once. He tried not to thrust forward too hard, not wanting to gag him, but it was nearly impossible. Aramis' mouth was hot and wet on his cock and the way his lover eagerly took him in was leaving Porthos' control in tatters.

D'Artagnan didn't move, staying still to give Athos and Porthos a chance to establish a rhythm between them. Only when Aramis was taking both mean easily, his body rocking back and forth between them, his cock fully hard between his legs, did D'Artagnan move. He carefully wrapped his hand around Aramis' flushed cock, mindful not to upset the others. He had to wiggle down a bit to line himself up then he opened his mouth wide and guided Aramis' cock down and into it.

Aramis moaned around Porthos' cock at the first touch of d'Artagnan's hand on his hardness. When the younger man took him inside, Aramis actually shouted, not even Porthos' substantial cock enough to silence the sound. He felt completely taken, his blood burning in his veins, as his lovers took him in every way they could. He had never felt so taken, so totally and completely owned. To have all of them like this, all of them touching him and loving him, was more than he could withstand. With another muffled cry, Aramis gave himself over to it, to them, letting them do with him as they would and trusting them to take care of him in the process.

Athos knew the moment d'Artagnan began taking Aramis into his mouth. Even if the man had not cried out, he would have known from the way his body clamped down on his cock to an almost painful degree. A moment later, Aramis' body was relaxing again as he placed himself in their hands. That Aramis would trust them this much, would surrender himself to them so completely, was heady knowledge and Athos vowed again to make this as good for his lover as he possibly could.

With Porthos' hands buried in Aramis' hair, Athos let his own stroke up and down the man's back as he began to gently roll his hips, fucking into him with long, languid strokes. He continued to touch Aramis everywhere he could, making sure he felt him. He could feel Aramis' responding, pushing back into his thrusts even as he arched up into his hands.

"We have you," Athos told him. "We are here and we have you. Just feel us, love. Just give yourself to us. You are ours, Aramis. Ours. Now let us prove it to you."

Aramis pressed back into Athos as best he could. He wanted to answer him, to tell him that he was theirs, theirs to do with as they wished. He did not, however, want to stop sucking Porthos' cock long enough to, so settled for moaning loudly. He felt Athos' hands grip his hips and squeeze, letting him know he understood. Satisfied, Aramis began sucking Porthos with abandon. He relaxed his throat and began working his way down further and further on the hard flesh filling his mouth. In no time at all, he was taking Porthos in to the root. He could feel the way his lover's bulk filled him, making it impossible to draw breath, as his throat rippled around the intrusion. Aramis refused to give up his prize, though, and forced his body to accept it.

"Aramis," Porthos groaned, his hands tightening in Aramis' hair without thought. His lover had taken him all the way into his throat. Porthos could feel it spasming around him, massaging the head of his cock, and had to fight not to spend on the spot. 

D'Artagnan kept his arms wrapped around Aramis' legs, holding onto him. He worked Aramis' cock, but only lightly, letting the man's movements guide him. With all that he imagined Athos and Porthos doing to him, he did not want to overwhelm him. Rather, he simply wanted to be a part of this with them all and allowing Aramis to use his mouth in such a way did just that.

Aramis was in heaven. He was being taken by all of his lovers at once. He felt totally engulfed by them, taking them into him even as he was taken in in turn. It was almost too much, all of the warring sensations pulling him in too many directions at once. His entire body felt afire, like a raw burning nerve, and every touch only made him burn brighter.

He drew things out as long as he could, but all too soon Athos felt his release beginning to build inside of him. He kept his movements slow and steady, rocking into Aramis just the way he knew the man liked best. He was dragging his cock nearly all the way out only to slide it back in again. He could feel his cock brushing against that special place inside of his lover and knew Aramis had to be close as well. Trusting d'Artagnan to ensure Aramis' release, Athos gave himself over to their lovemaking, thinking of nothing save the feel of this man taking him.

Porthos knew his lovers well enough to know that both of them were near the brink. Aramis was starting to flush, the color spreading all the way down his face and what part of his chest that he could see. The sound of Athos' labored breathing only increased his own arousal as he listened to his lover strive for his completion. 

In the end, it was simply a matter of Aramis forcing his mouth down on Porthos' cock as far as it would go and holding it there. Porthos gave a shout when he felt him swallow around the head of his cock, his lover's throat massaging him mercilessly. A moment later, he was grinding Aramis' face into his groin as he began to spend.

Athos thought the sight of Porthos losing control and spending down Aramis' throat was one of the most erotic he had ever witnessed. He could imagine all too well what that had to feel like for both of them and before knew it his own bollocks were drawing up dangerously. His control broken, Athos began to trust into Aramis hard, his hips snapping as his release slammed through him.

D'Artagnan felt the two men on either end of Aramis suddenly lose their rhythm. Knowing what that meant, he held himself still, opening his mouth wide so that Aramis might use him as he wished. He could not help but grip his own swollen cock as Aramis began to thrust into his mouth, lost to the feel of his lovers spending inside of him.

Aramis cried out around Porthos' cock as Athos began to thrust into him sharply. He tried to hold himself still, aware of d'Artagnan beneath him, but he simply could not. His body was on sensory overload, thrusting wildly between his lovers as he neared the brink of release.

Reluctantly, Porthos drew back from Aramis, letting his spent cock slide free. He kept his hands in Aramis' hair as his lover panted in front of him. He could feel d'Artagnan taking himself in hand as Aramis all but rutted his face. From the look on Athos' face, he was more than enjoying the feel of Aramis losing control and simply rutting between them.

Finally spent, Athos tightened his grip on Aramis' hip, forcing him to still. He heard the man keen in need and did his best to soothe him as he slowly withdrew. As soon as he was out, he let go and allowed Aramis to do as his body demanded once more. He was gratified when Aramis began to move again, thrusting his hips hard and fast as he took d'Artagnan's mouth roughly.

Beneath him, d'Artagnan did his best to hold on and catch a breath where he could. Aramis was well and truly fucking his face and it was enough to make his cock ache in need. His own hand was nearly more than he could take as he stroked his over-sensitive flesh. He was almost as desperate now to spend as Aramis was and he held himself as still as he could even as he hastily stroked himself.

Without warning, Aramis cried out and shoved himself all the way into d'Artagnan's mouth. A second later, he began to spend, his hips jerking as he tried to force his cock deeper still. D'Artagnan's own hand tightened on himself at the feel of Aramis taking him in such a way and before he knew it he was spending as well, his seed shooting up to stripe his lover’s neck and chest as he moaned weakly from beneath him.

When it was over, Athos and Porthos had to bodily move Aramis off of d'Artagnan. Athos helped the younger man up as Porthos situated Aramis on their bed. Even after spending, both men were still shaking slightly and they cleaned them hurriedly before pressing them together in the middle of the bed.

&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M

Athos found himself reluctant to leave his lovers the next morning. What they had shared the night before had been intense and he longed to stay by their sides. Duty, however, had other ideas and he forced himself to rise and prepare to leave for the garrison. 

D’Artagnan blinked his eyes open just as Athos was finishing dressing. He opened his mouth to ask what was going on then closed it as he remembered. Athos was taking over at the garrison for the Captain for the next two weeks. That meant he had to be there before the men started showing up for the day. Placing a last gentle kiss to Aramis’ shoulder, he carefully maneuvered his way out of the bed mindful not to wake his sleeping brothers. He barely stifled a yawn as he stretched then scanned the room for his clothes.

“You need not get up yet,” Athos said. 

“Don’t want you to go in alone,” d’Artagnan shrugged. It wasn’t that he was worried about Athos. Even if the man did run into Champney, there was unlikely to be a problem. He just did not like the idea of Athos having to face their first day back alone. 

“I will be fine,” Athos replied. “I doubt if Champney would be so bold as to approach me in the streets. A crowded market is one thing but near deserted streets are quite another.”

“It isn’t that,” d’Artagnan tried to explain. “Not really. I just… I guess I just don’t want you to have to face going back without us. It’s foolish, I know.”

“It is not,” Athos told him, touched by d’Artagnan’s apparent concern for him. "It is, in truth, most welcome. While I have no qualms about returning to our duty I am always more at ease with my brothers at my side."

"Do you want me to wake the others?" D'Artagnan asked. He knew neither Porthos nor Aramis would mind waking to accompany Athos.

"No," Athos shook his head. "Let them rest. Your company is more than sufficient."

"I'm glad," d'Artagnan said then hesitated. There was something he wanted to speak with Athos about but was not at all sure now was the time.

"What is it?" Athos asked, easily picking up on his lover's hesitancy.

D'Artagnan grinned then looked away. The way Athos seemed to just know when there was something going on with him always made him feel warm inside. He doubted if he would ever grow accustomed to there being men who knew him so well as to almost know what he was thinking. He certainly hoped he never did.

"I would speak to you of something but I am unsure if I should do so now," d'Artagnan explained. When he saw Athos frown he quickly went on. "It is nothing bad. I am, however, unsure if it is a conversation we should begin on our way to the garrison is all."

"Tell me," Athos said. "No one is apt to be at the garrison quite yet other than Serge. We will have the privacy to discuss whatever the matter is."

"Very well," d'Artagnan agreed. He waited until they were clear of the house and walking toward their destination. The streets were practically deserted this time of the morning lending them an air of intimacy they did not usually have in the city. 

"I liked it," d'Artagnan blurted out softly as he stepped in close enough to Athos so that the shoulders brushed. Even with the streets deserted, it was still prudent to be wary. 

"I am glad," Athos said carefully. "Though I assume you are referring to something in particular rather than the encounter as a whole."

"Being... beneath... like that," d'Artagnan tried to explain, his face heating as he did so. "Having my mouth taken so forcefully with naught I could about it. I had expected to find enjoyment in the act. I was with my lovers, after all. But I had not expected to... to revel in it."

"I see," Athos replied. He carefully mulled over d'Artagnan's words, those he said and those he did not. He started to reply then realized how close they were to the garrison. "Let us continue this conversation in the Captain's office."

"You mean your office?" D'Artagnan grinned.

"Only temporarily, I assure you. While I do not mind taking over for Treville on occasion, I have no wish to do so on a more permanent basis. I much prefer to ride with my brothers."

They reached the gates of the garrison and both men fell silent. Athos nodded to the sentries then headed toward his temporary office. He waved a greeting to Serge, as did d'Artagnan, before climbing the stairs. Inside, Athos lit a lamp while d'Artagnan closed the door, even going so far as to close the shutters as well. This was not a conversation that they wanted overheard.

"Alright," Athos said as he sat down at the small table and motioned for d'Artagnan to join him. "Now, explain what you meant."

D'Artagnan blushed at the command. He could feel Athos' eyes looking at him intently. It was akin to a hand on his neck and he found himself wanting to lower his head, to show his acceptance of Athos' authority.

"D'Artagnan?" Athos called when d'Artagnan failed to speak. He could see the uncertainty in his lover's eyes and wanted to reach out to him. He restrained himself, knowing the garrison was no place for such demonstrations. 

"Sorry," d'Artagnan replied. "What we did last night, with me on the bottom like that. I liked it. I liked it a great deal."

"What about it did you like so much?"

"I'm not sure," d'Artagnan shrugged. "The lack of control. My inability to do more than simply take what was given to me. The way Aramis lost control at the end and just... just rutted my face."

"Was it the roughness of his taking or more the fact that you had could barely move?" Athos asked. He wanted to understand exactly what parts of their encounter the younger man had enjoyed so.

"It was a combination of the two really, but I would have to say the... the restraint. I mean, I knew I could have called out at any time and you would have let me up at once. Still, being held down like that and... and just taken..."

"So what you enjoyed was having your choice taken from you, yes?"

"Yes," d'Artagnan replied, his breath coming out in a rush. 

"And you would like to experience that again?"

"Yes."

"With all of us together or with me specifically?"

"With... with you," d'Artagnan managed, his face flaming again.

"Then ask me for it," Athos told him. "Ask me for exactly what it is you want. And do not tell me you don't know for I know very well that you do. You know exactly what you want from me, you are simply afraid to voice it."

"Yes, Sir," d'Artagnan said. He looked away from Athos and took a breath. Steeling himself, he turned back toward him and met his eyes. "I want you to do that to me. I want you to... to hold me down and take what you want. I want you to do what you did before, when you and Porthos took me."

"You want me to take control again," Athos said, refusing to hide behind words in this. "You want me to put you on your knees and take what I want from you regardless of your own wishes, your own pleasure."

"Yes, Sir," d'Artagnan replied breathlessly.

"You know I will not go easy on you," Athos reminded him. "You remember how I was the last time. When we play this game again, I will be as bad or worse."

"I want you to be," d'Artagnan admitted. "You don't have to hold back, Sir. I can take it. I... I want to take it."

"And is there any way in particular you want to take it?" Athos pressed.

"I want you to use my mouth," d'Artagnan replied. "I want you to shove yourself down my throat until I choke, until I am struggling to even breathe. Other than that, I do not care. You may make use of my body in any way you wish."

"And if I refuse to allow you your release?"

"Then you will likely need to punish me for I doubt if I will be able to withstand such an onslaught."

"And just how do you wish me to punish you?"

"That is not for me to say," d'Artagnan replied meekly. "I am yours, Sir. Yours to use, yours to reward, and yours to punish as you see fit."

"Very well," Athos said. "I shall arrange things with the others. For now, we have work to do."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Further updates on this and Hearts may be a little while in coming. My mother passed away two weeks ago and things have been a bit difficult. Life goes on, however, and so will this story as well as my others.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so very sorry for the huge delay on this. This story is still actively being worked on as is Hearts. Hopefully now that life has settled down and school is out for the summer I will have more time to write.
> 
> As always, a thousand thanks to SnowGlory for all her help with this!!

The garrison was still coming awake when Porthos and Aramis arrived. They headed straight up to the Captain's office, grinning at the sight of Athos sitting at the Captain's desk. "You look good there," Porthos said. 

"Believe me, it is only temporary," Athos replied. He had meant what he was to d'Artagnan. He did not mind filling in for Treville but he had no desire to take over permanently.

"Good," Aramis said. "I do not think I could stand the thought of going off while you were forced to remain behind."

"Agreed," Athos said. 

"Where's the Whelp?" Porthos asked, looking around the room and frowning.

"He went to see if Serge had anything ready to eat."

"Smart lad," Porthos said. He could not help but notice the way Athos was looking at Aramis. There was obviously something he wanted to talk to him about, preferably without him there. "Think I'll go see if he had any luck."

Aramis watched Porthos as he left, closing the door securely behind him. Once they were alone, he turned his attention back to Athos. His brother looked... pensive. As if he had something to say that he was not sure would be received well. Aramis was really starting to hate that look on the man.

"So," Aramis began, sitting down in the chair in front of the Captain's... Athos' desk. "I take it you have something you wish to tell me?"

"More ask you really, but yes," Athos said then sighed. He knew Aramis was not going to like what he had to say. In truth, he could not blame the man. He was already chafing at the restrictions imposed upon him, this was not going to help that any.

"Then ask," Aramis said. "I will not hold it against you, whatever it is."

"You cannot promise that."

"Yes, I can," Aramis countered gently. Glancing about the room, he made sure the door was still firmly closed before continuing softly. "You are my brother and my lover and one of the dearest friends I have ever had. I may not like what you are going to ask of me, but I will not blame you for asking it."

"You are more precious to me than I can say," Athos replied, Aramis' heartfelt words making it hard to speak for a moment. "I know you have been feeling somewhat stifled since our return. Please know that we only ever seek to keep you safe."

"I know that," Aramis said, frowning at Athos' uncharacteristic reluctance. 

"I have no wish to make that worse."

"But?"

"But. But I cannot in all good conscience keep all three of you tied to the garrison. It is not fair to the other men and it is not fair to Porthos and d'Artagnan."

"Porthos and d'Artagnan," Aramis said flatly, understanding now what Athos was hinting at. He felt his anger grow but forced it back down. This was not Athos' fault. He would not take his displeasure out on his brother. He knew Athos was as unhappy with the situation as he was. That was what he was truly angry with, the circumstances that forced them into this, not his brother.

"Yes," Athos said, refusing to shy away from it. He could see that Aramis understood what it was he wanted. It would be up to him to agree to it. Athos would not force the issue. Not this time. 

"You... you will not send them on anything too dangerous, will you?" Aramis asked. He felt helpless all of a sudden, as if some unseen hand was dictating his life rather than his own decisions. 

"Simple patrols," Athos promised. "I would not send the into true danger without you, without us."

"Very well," Aramis sighed. "I will not pretend to like it. It feels too much like _they_ are once more controlling me, but I understand. I can work on training the new recruits. Perhaps one or two of them would be interested in learning some of the healing arts as well."

"Thank you," Athos said, relieved yet dismayed at the same time. The contrast was enough to leave him mildly nauseous. "It will not be forever, brother. None of us would allow that. But until we can act..."

"I understand, Athos," Aramis said, cutting him off. "Forgive me. It stings right now, but I shall get over it soon enough. Were it one of you in some danger, I would likely do the same."

&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M

Porthos found d'Artagnan just sitting down at their customary table, his arms laden with food. Porthos sat down across from him, his eyes flitting to the Captain's door despite himself. He was not sure what Athos wanted to talk to Aramis about and it made him nervous. 

"It will be alright," d'Artagnan said as he reached out and clasped Porthos' arm. He kept the touch brief, well aware that they were in the middle of the garrison. The last thing they needed was to draw the wrong sort of attention to themselves, even from their fellow Musketeers. 

"You got any idea what Athos wanted to talk to him about?" Porthos asked as he busied himself with the breakfast d'Artagnan had laid out for them.

"No. He didn't say anything to me," d'Artagnan replied. 

"It's probably nothing. Just..."

"Just what?"

"Athos looked nervous about it, like he didn't really want to say whatever it was."

"Can you really blame him?" D'Artagnan asked, looking away. "Aramis and I have both been somewhat volatile since our return. Perhaps he simply does not want to cause a scene here."

"Hey," Porthos said. He waited until d'Artagnan met his eyes before continuing. "That's not your fault, Whelp. And Athos knows Aramis would never cause a scene here no matter how upset he was."

"You're right," d'Artagnan nodded. "Still, I wouldn't blame Athos for being somewhat hesitant. Even if Aramis didn't cause a scene here, there has been so much discord among us of late. Athos would be loathe to cause more."

Both men looked up at the sound of the door closing. Watching Aramis descend the stairs, they could see the slight frown he wore. All in all, it was a much milder reaction than either of them had been expecting. Still, they could see that he was not happy with whatever Athos had told him. 

"'Mis? You okay?" Porthos asked carefully. For all he said that Aramis wouldn't make a scene here, it would not be wise to provoke him.

"I'm fine," Aramis said, his voice short and clipped. He sighed and closed his eyes. This was no more Porthos' fault than it was Athos' and he wasn't going to take his displeasure out on the man. 

"I'm sorry," he said, opening his eyes and smiling softly at Porthos. "I didn't mean to snap. I am fine. I am not happy with staying behind, but I cannot argue the wisdom of it."

"Staying behind?" Porthos queried, unsure what Aramis was talking about.

"Athos does not think it prudent for me to be walking about the city, even with the two of you," Aramis explained. "He promised to only send you on routine patrols, but I still do not like it. Even routine patrols can be dangerous."

"You want me to talk to him?" Porthos asked, torn. On the one hand, he could see Athos' point, on the other the thought of Aramis staying behind without him didn't sit right at all.

"No," Aramis shook his head. "He is not wrong. Until the situation with Pierre and Marisol is resolved, it would be in our best interest to be cautious. I simply do not like the thought of the two of you out there while Athos and I sit safely back here."

"If it helps, I don't like it much either," Porthos grumbled.

"It does," Aramis reassured him. 

"Nor do I," d'Artagnan put in, speaking up at last. "I much prefer to have you with us, even if there is danger about."

"It is the same for me," Aramis replied. "But Pierre is much less likely to approach you if I am not present. The less we draw his attention, the better. He cannot suspect we are coming for him. No one can."

&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M

La Oscuridad flew like a whirlwind around the small shack that still imprisoned it. _He_ was right there. The one who had caused all of this. The Seminarian. _Aramis_. It had felt him as soon as he entered the courtyard just as it had the last time. The last time, however, he had not lingered. To know that he was so close, close enough to touch, made it nearly senseless with rage. It tried to breech the confines of its prison, tried to seep out, to get closer but it was no use. That only served to increase its fury and the heavy oak table began to shake. 

Knowing better than to draw attention to itself, it forced away its anger and calmed. It would make itself known soon enough, but in order to do so it could not allow anyone to suspect. Least of all the Seminarian. For it had grown stronger, but not fully. It did not yet have all of its powers restored. In very little time, they would be. Then it would have its revenge. Then it would visit pain and suffering on the priest the likes of which he never could have imagined. 

It would make him crawl and beg. It would make him watch while it destroyed his precious brothers before his very eyes. It would make him its whore, swearing to do anything if only it would let one of them live. And when it did allow one of them to remain, it would be as its vessel, forcing him to watch as it twisted the man beyond recognition. It would hurt him again and again until he was begging his feeble god for death just to end his torment. It knew his prayers would not be heard, though. His god would not intercede. His god would not care about a whore and a sodomite. His god would not save him. 

&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M

When Athos handed out the morning assignments, a few of the men looked surprised. While the inseparables had taken separate assignments before, they had not expected Athos to split them up, not when he himself was bound to the garrison. Some of the older men only nodded, as if Athos' actions made perfect sense. They had not missed the hesitancy with which Aramis walked among them, not that first visit and not still. Besides, after all the man had clearly been through, they could not fault Athos for wanting to keep him safe. 

Still, it was not hard to miss the way all three of them stiffened at Athos' words. To the men, that was understandable, too. For as much as Athos wanted Aramis where he could safely keep an eye on him, Porthos and d'Artagnan obviously did the same. 

It was Claude that walked over to the trio, clasping Aramis on the shoulder in greeting. "We will keep an eye on him, brothers," he said to Porthos and d'Artagnan. He felt Aramis stiffen under his hand and looked at him. "We all know you can look after yourself, but you have been sorely tested. Allow us the indulgence of knowing you are safe for just a while."

"I do not wish to be a burden," Aramis said softly. "I am able to do my duty."

"Aramis, we know that," Claude chided gently. "Any man here would gladly stand with you at his back. Our trust in you is not shaken, brother. It is rather our trust in fate not to deal you yet another blow. I do not know if any of us could stand to see you hurt again."

"I am not so important as all that," Aramis muttered, blushing at the other man's words. He would have expected such from one of his lovers. To hear it from one of his Musketeer brothers was a bit overwhelming. 

"On the contrary. You keep us going. All of us. Or at least all of us who have the pleasure of knowing you. Your courage... your faith... they are what we look to when things look grim."

"Claude..."

"Listen to him," Sebastian said as he moved to stand next to Claude. "Besides, these new recruits couldn't hit the broad side of a barn if they were standing next to it. Some of them, I don't think they even know which end of a musket the ball comes out of."

Aramis choked on a laugh at that, Sebastian's grumbling breaking the tension of the moment. "I am sure they are not as bad as all that."

"You'll see," Sebastian said. 

Aramis stood by their table, watching as his brothers walked through the front gate until they disappeared from view. He sighed, sagging at the sudden loneliness that washed over him. Shaking his head, he berated himself. They were only going on patrol, for goodness sakes. They would be back by nightfall. For now, he needed to make himself useful. 

Aramis headed back up the stairs to Athos' office. He knocked once for propriety's sake then simply walked in. He smiled a bit when Athos only shook his head at him. "Do you wish me to start working with the recruits immediately?"

"I thought to, yes," Athos said. "But if there is something else you wish to do first..."

"Actually, I would like to inventory the infirmary," Aramis said. "I don't know who Treville had in charge of it while we were gone."

"I don't think he had anyone," Athos replied. "As far as I know, you have the most medical knowledge of anyone here."

Aramis frowned, not caring for that. An empty infirmary was all but useless. "I shall see to that first then," he stated. 

"Alright," Athos agreed, relieved that Aramis was actively trying to find his place here again. Things would have been... difficult... if he had remained resistant. "Perhaps you can start looking for someone to apprentice while you're at it."

"Apprentice?" Aramis gasped. "Athos, I do not think..."

"Peace, love," Athos whispered. "I only meant another to train in healing. You cannot be everywhere at once and... and when we ride together again the Captain is going to need someone he can look to besides you."

"Oh," Aramis said, heartened. He would ride with his brothers again. He would not lose his place here, his place with them, at their sides. 

"This is not forever," Athos told him again. "But while we are here, let us do what we can for all of our brothers."

Aramis headed down to the infirmary then, intent on getting it up to date again. Not that he thought the Captain would have neglected something so vital, but he had always counted on Aramis in the past to keep him informed of such things. 

Entering the small room, Aramis frowned. The place had an overall air of disuse that he did not care for. Not that he was not glad to know the place had seen little to no activity but it still needed to be ready just in case. First things first, Aramis began taking stock of the supplies on hand. He made of list, diving it between those things they absolutely had to have, those things that were important but not essential at the moment and finally, those things he would like to have on hand if at all able.

It was a long list, much longer than Aramis would have liked. There was nothing to be done for it, though. Calling one of the recruits over that had been milling about attempting to watch him surreptitiously, he handed him the list and directed him to take it to Athos at once. The young man hesitated a heartbeat then did as he was bid leaving Aramis alone once more.

Next on his list was scrubbing the place down. A layer of dust had settled over the place, covering every surface. Not only did it provide a somewhat uncomfortable working environment, it was not at all conducive to keeping infections at bay.

As he cleaned, Aramis kept an eye on the doorway and the courtyard beyond. Athos had a valid point about instructing someone else in healing techniques. It would need to be somebody with the correct disposition, though. They needed calm nerves and a steady hand. It did not do to panic when one held another's life in one's hands.

"What did you do?" Asked a young man as he stood in the doorway. Aramis had seen him slowly edging closer and had waited. If the lad was truly interested, he would come to him.

"I beg your pardon," Aramis said, raising an eyebrow as he turned to face him.

"To piss off the Captain," the young man offered.

"Ah," Aramis grinned. "This is not a punishment. I am merely trying to get the place into shape should it be needed."

"You... you used to be the medic here, didn't you?" He ventured.

Aramis nodded, looking the young man over. He had more courage than his peers, that much was clear. None of the other recruits had dared approach him, even going so far as to avoid looking in his direction after his first visit. He supposed he had his brothers to thank for that. The older Musketeers had rallied around him, even those that had not known him all that well. Aramis was grateful for their open acceptance but they had made the younger ones somewhat wary of him. He needed to get them past that if he was going to be training them.

"I was and am," Aramis told him and held out his hand. "I'm Aramis."

"Francois," the young man said, coming forward and taking Aramis' hand.

"Alright, Francois. Just how interested are you in all of this?"

"I'm not sure I have the... fortitude to be a healer," he admitted. "Not like you."

"I was not always this confident in my abilities," Aramis told him. "Time and practice have honed my skills a great degree."

"How did you get into all of this?"

"Being a healer, you mean?" At the young man's nod, Aramis continued. "I was in the army before I became a Musketeer. We were in a battle. It did not go well for us. Many men died. Men that could have been saved had someone but known how to help them. I buried a lot of friends that day. And I swore to myself I would not bury another, not for lack of a healer's care."

"I am not sure I could do that... stay calm when others are dying around me... to turn my hands to healing instead of fighting in the face of a threat."

"It is not easy," Aramis admitted. "Even now, my first instinct is always to reach for my sword. It... enrages me to see a comrade fall. Yet it is even harder to see a man fall and not offer him aid when I know how, to keep fighting. Sometimes, however, there is little choice. The enemy must be dealt with before the injured can be seen to."

Aramis moved over to the small table in the room and motioned for Francois to join him. He could see the young man was truly intrigued. Aramis had to wonder if he had not in fact found his protege already. 

"How do you stomach it?" Francois asked. He appreciated the honesty with which Aramis answered his queries. He did not try to hide the difficulties he faced. He did not try to make what he did sound easy.

"There are times when it is all I can do not to be sick then and there. That has grown less over the years as I have become inured to it, but it has never truly disappeared. The first few times I had to sew another man up, I was sick. The sight of a man's blood covering my hands, it is obscene. Yet to do nothing is an even greater obscenity."

Francois nodded, understanding what Aramis meant. To stand by helplessly while a friend, a comrade, died because he did not have the knowledge to save them was almost impossible to stomach. As much as he was sickened by the thought he still did not know if he could do it, if he could sew a man back together as if he were mending a torn shirt. 

"Think on it," Aramis said, seeing how he struggled. "If you wish to learn, I am more than happy to teach you but it is not a decision you must make right now."

&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M

Porthos and d'Artagnan didn't say much as they made their way toward the Court. Athos had assigned them to patrol the area. Porthos knew he thought his connection to the place might offer them small amount of protection, or at least a place to go to ground if necessary. Not that any of them thought that was going to be necessary. There were no reports of problems in the area. It was more for appearances sake and to ease them back into the lives they had left behind for so long.

"This feels wrong," d'Artagnan finally said. They had stopped at a tavern for a quick bite and were waiting for their food. 

"Not the first time we've been given separate assignments," Porthos replied. If he was honest, he agreed with d'Artagnan. This felt wrong. Knowing Athos and Aramis were back at the garrison, as safe as they could possibly be within the city, did little to quell the feeling. It was enough to set his teeth on edge, though he tried not to show it.

"I know that," d'Artagnan sighed. "I know it isn't the first time and likely won't be the last. Still feels wrong somehow."

"I know, Whelp," Porthos admitted. 

They ate quickly, not inclined to linger. The sooner they got back to work, the sooner the day would pass and they could return to their brothers. A general sense of unease had settled over both of them, yet they could not say why. It was not any one thing, but rather an overall feeling of something being... off. 

As the sun began to dip below the horizon, they turned back toward the garrison. Their patrol had been as uneventful as they had anticipated, if somewhat more tense. Turning back toward home, they felt the tension start to bleed from them, the unease of the day finally starting to dissipate. 

They were on the outskirts of the Court when a girl darted out of the shadows of a nearby alley. Both men froze, their hands automatically going to their swords causing the girl to stop in her tracks. When they saw it was just a young girl, both visibly relaxed. 

"It's alright, sweetheart," Porthos said, shaking his head. "You just startled us a bit is all."

The girl eyed them carefully, looking them up and down before slowly drawing near. "Flea wants to talk to you," the girl whispered once she was close enough. "She said to tell you to come see her."

"Now?" Porthos asked, glancing around to see if anyone was paying any attention to them. The girl nodded then darted off the way she had come. She disappeared down the alley, leaving the pair standing in the street. 

"Porthos?" D'Artagnan queried. He was not at all sure they should venture into the Court. Not without Athos and Aramis with them. 

"It's okay," Porthos said. "Flea wouldn't have sent word for us if it wasn't important. Or safe."

"Alright," d'Artagnan frowned. He didn't like it but he would not argue with Porthos. He knew this place and these people much better than he did. If he said it was safe then it was safe.

“Stick close to me anyway, ‘eh Whelp?” Porthos said as they headed in the direction the girl had run off. The alleyway let out onto a side street near one of the entrances to the Court. Porthos wasn’t worried for himself. Even after that whole business with Charon, he was still respected. The Whelp, on the other hand, was different. Porthos wouldn’t put it past some of the more desperate residents to try to roll the boy for whatever coin he might have.

“Should we be doing this?” d’Artagnan whispered as he stepped closer to Porthos. He could already feel eyes on them and it made the hair on the back of his neck stand up.

“It’ll be okay,” Porthos said, his eyes scanning the nearby alleys and side streets for any sign of danger. Like d’Artagnan, he could tell they were being watched. He had expected it as they passed over the boundary but not as they ventured further in. It was disconcerting in a way that his visits here never were and it put him on edge. 

They had just reached the main junction when four men stepped from the shadows. Porthos stopped short, his hand going to the hilt of his sword as he eyed them menacingly. He felt d’Artagnan tense beside him and knew the boy was readying himself for a fight as well. 

“Flea sent us to escort you,” one of them said, stepping forward. His name was Thaddeus. Porthos remembered him from the last time he had been here. 

“Since when do I need an escort?” Porthos challenged. 

“Flea will explain,” Thaddeus replied. Seeing the stubborn set to Porthos’ jaw, he sighed. He moved closer, not wanting his words to be overheard. “Our people have started going missing. We don’t know what has become of them. It is why Flea sent for you.”

Porthos’ eyes widened at the man’s whispered words. He glanced at d’Artagnan and saw that he, too, was taken aback. While people in the Court came and went, they were a very tight-knit community. A very tight-knit community with quite a few resources at their disposal when it came to information gathering. That they could not find where their people were disappearing was alarming in the extreme.

“Lead on,” Porthos nodded, understanding now why they were being so closely watched. It was not that he was not trusted but these people would be wary of anyone that did not belong right now. 

They found Flea ensconced in the very heart of the Court along with what appeared to be most, if not all, of the children. Porthos quirked an eyebrow at her and she shook her head. Telling the children she would be back momentarily, she motioned for the men to follow her and led them into an adjoining room.

“What the hell is going on?” Porthos asked as soon as the door was closed behind them.

“Nice to see you, too,” Flea replied sourly.

“Thaddeus said people were going missing,” Porthos continued, refusing to rise to the bait. 

“Yes,” Flea replied, huffing out a defeated breath. 

“What’s going on?” Porthos asked again, gentler this time.

“It’s just as Thaddeus said. People are going missing and we have no idea where. At first, we thought they were just leaving. You know, finding better lives, that sort of thing. It happens a lot here. People come and go. But then some of the regulars started going missing. Ones we knew didn’t find a better life.”

“Did the Guard pick them up maybe?” d’Artagnan asked hesitantly.

“No,” Flea replied, glancing at him before turning her attention back to Porthos. “We checked. We have eyes inside both the Bastille and the Chatelet. None of our people have turned up there.”

“Why are all of the children here with you?” Porthos asked suddenly. “And why are you under guard?”

“Because four nights ago, Glynnis’ two boys went missing,” Flea said. The helpless anger in her voice was clear as she struggled to get herself under control.

“I’m sorry, I do not mean to question you,” d’Artagnan said carefully. “But is there any chance they simply ran away?”

“They are four and six, d’Artagnan,” Flea said, letting him know she was quite aware of who he was. “And the youngest has a lame foot. They couldn’t have run away if they wanted to. Not without someone seeing them and stopping them.”

D’Artagnan frowned darkly. The thought of someone out there preying on these people was bad enough, but to know they had turned their attention to the most helpless among them enraged him. Whoever it was that was behind this, they were smart. They had chosen their victims well. Those within the Court had few recourses where the law was concerned. If it were not for Porthos, they would likely have none at all.

“And you’ve seen no sign of them since?” Porthos asked.

“None. It’s like they just vanished into thin air.”

“Who else has gone missing?” Porthos asked. “Give me all of their names.”

“I have a list,” Flea said as she reached into her dress and drew out a folded scrap of paper. “This is everyone we are aware of. There are probably others but there is no way to tell.”

“We will look into this,” Porthos told her. “As soon as we find out anything, we’ll let you know.”

Flea looked at the pair of them, at their earnest expressions, and was surprised to find that she believed him. It wasn’t that she did not trust Porthos but even her own people had not been able to find anything. Still, if anyone could figure out what was going on, it would be Porthos.

“Make sure it’s you that comes back here,” Flea cautioned, smiling apologetically at d’Artagnan’s startled look. “The people here know you or know of you. They’ll let you pass. They won’t be so kind to anyone else no matter what I say. Not right now.”

They made their way out of the Court quickly after that. Thaddeus and his men escorted them to the outskirts then departed to begin making their rounds. Neither Porthos nor d’Artagnan liked the thought of leaving these people alone and vulnerable but they knew there was little they could do. The king would never allow them to place a guard here even if the denizens of the Court would submit to it. Not all of the Court’s inhabitants were there due to poverty, after all. 

“C’mon,” Porthos said gruffly, stuffing the list of names safely inside his doublet. “We need to get back to the garrison and let Athos know about this.”

&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M

Striding back into the courtyard, they were somewhat surprised to find Aramis sitting at _their_ table talking to a young man. He looked up when they entered, his eyebrows arching in surprise of his own when they moved past him without a word to head directly up the stairs to Athos’ office. 

Aramis considered following after them for a moment but forced himself to remain where he was. His brothers had given him no indication that they wished him to join them. Therefore, he must assume his input was neither wanted nor needed. Instead, he focused his attention on Francois once more. The young man certainly had promise. He would need to speak with Athos about him.

At the top of the landing, Porthos reached for the door. D’Artagnan’s hand on his arm, however, stopped him. “What?” Porthos asked, frowning at him.

“If it was Treville, would you just walk in?” d’Artagnan whispered, leaning in close so that no one else might hear. 

Porthos’ eyes widened and he dropped his arm when he realized what he had been about to do. D’Artagnan was right. He would never have simply barged into the Captain’s office. And while Athos may be his brother, right now he was also the Captain. Porthos owed it to him to show him the respect that titled merited. If he didn’t, how could he expect the rest of the regiment to?

“Thanks,” Porthos whispered back and knocked.

“Come,” came the sharp reply through the door causing both men to grin. They wondered if Athos knew just how much he sounded like Treville in that moment. Somehow, they doubted it, owing it more to Athos’ innate respect for the man and the years he had spent under his leadership.

As Porthos opened the door, d’Artagnan cast a glance down the stairs to where Aramis sat. He had expected him to follow them and was unsure why he had not. Telling himself he would ask him about it later, he followed Porthos inside, making sure to close the door behind them.

Athos breathed a sigh of relief when he took in Porthos and d’Artagnan standing in front of his desk whole and unharmed. He had not expected the pair to run into any trouble, certainly not any they could not handle. Still, it was their first day back on duty and without he and Aramis by their sides as well. It had left him on edge all day and he was glad to see them safely back once more.

“So, how did your patrol go?” he asked as he motioned for them to sit. He saw no reason to stand on protocol with only the three of them present. 

“Quiet enough,” d’Artagnan replied as he cast a glance at Porthos.

“But?” Athos queried when they failed to elaborate.

“But we ran into Flea,” Porthos began. “Or rather a messenger from her. She wanted to talk to us… to me.”

“What about?” Athos frowned. It was not so much that it was Flea that wanted to talk to Porthos. He trusted his lover. It was more the fact that the reigning monarch of the Court of Miracles wanted to talk to him. That meant whatever it was, was serious.

"People are going missing," Porthos explained. "And before you say it, I know people come and go all the time, but this is more than that."

"We know they don't like Musketeers poking around there," d'Artagnan put in when he saw Athos frown darkly and shake his head. "But Porthos is right. Flea would not have come to us, to him, without good reason. These people need our help and they are as deserving of it as any other citizen of Paris."

"I am not saying they are not, d'Artagnan," Athos said choosing his words carefully. He was proud of the young man's willingness to protect these people whether they wished him to or not, however the situation with the Court was not as simple as d'Artagnan made it out to be.

"But?" Porthos countered warily.

"But... I am not sure what we can actually do," Athos stated baldly. "As you have said, they do not welcome Musketeers within their community. They may allow Porthos to come and go but even that is with a healthy dose of mistrust. They do not tolerate our presence even when it is merely to offer them our help."

"So you would have us abandon them?" Porthos asked incredulously. He could not believe what Athos was saying. He would have expected such nonsense from Treville, even if he did disagree with it. Far too often, the Captain had to put politics before doing what he knew was right. The man hated it, but it was a necessary evil to be able to continue to operate, for the most part, autonomously. In the end, the good Treville managed to do far outweighed the compromises he was forced to make. Porthos supposed that was what allowed him to sleep at night. 

Athos, however, was not Treville. He might be acting for the Captain during his absence, but acting was all he was doing. He was not taking Treville's place. He did not need to concern himself with garnering favors for future use. Treville would be long back by the time he needed to call any of those markers in. No, Athos had no need to tread as lightly as the Captain did which left Porthos wondering why he was choosing to now.

"Porthos..." Athos huffed, annoyed. He did not appreciate being asked to explain himself in such a manner. He most certainly did not now, when he was effectively Porthos' commanding officer. Athos was just grateful no one else save d'Artagnan was present or he would be forced to reprimand him quite harshly.

"I do not believe those responsible are within the Court," Porthos argued, determined to convince Athos that they had enough information to at least look into it. He had been thinking the matter over the whole way back to the garrison. Whoever was behind this, they may have access to the Court but they were not based there. 

"Why do you say that?" Athos asked, his exasperation with the man showing.

"How can they be? If they were based out of the Court, they would have been found out by now. They can come and go, that much is for certain, but they've got a base someplace else, I'm sure of it."

"It's got to be somewhere close," d'Artagnan put in, hoping to add a voice of calmness, if not reason, to the mix. "They'd draw too much attention otherwise."

Athos eyed the pair, taking in everything they had told him. He could see how much they wanted to do this, Porthos in particular. Still, the Court was often considered outside their purview, largely ignored unless they were causing trouble. Athos had to wonder if they had not perhaps brought whatever this was down upon themselves. He did not, however, voice that thought aloud knowing how Porthos was likely to take it. 

"How many did she say have gone missing?" Athos sighed wearily.

Porthos drew the list Flea had given him from his pocket and handed it to Athos. He scanned it quickly then looked up at the other man. "There are over a dozen names on this list," he said.

"Aye," Porthos nodded grimly.

"The last two are but children," d'Artagnan added, his voice conveying equal parts pain and disgust. "Just six and four. The youngest with a lame foot as well. Do you see now why we feel we cannot turn our backs on these people, Athos?"

"I never meant for us to," Athos said, frustrated by the corner he was being backed into. "But you must tread lightly here. We have no idea who is behind this. For all we know, it could be the bloody Cardinal, though I doubt even he would stoop to targeting lame children. Regardless, you have said yourselves they can move throughout the Court at will. That will make them hard to track. You will need to be on your guard at all times."

"So we have your permission to look into this?" D'Artagnan asked.

"Yes," Athos agreed somewhat reluctantly. He could see that Porthos was still displeased but it was the best that he could do. He was taking a risk as it was. "Whether they like it or not, they are citizens of Paris and we shall protect them as we would any other. Now, why don't you two go down and see if Aramis is finished for the day."

"Alright," Porthos relented, relieved that Athos had given them leave to investigate the disappearances though he would have appreciated a bit more support from the man. He had never thought Athos one for looking down on the less fortunate among them but his reluctance in this was clear to see. 

"Don't be too long," d'Artagnan called softly as he pulled the door shut behind him. He knew Athos had come in before the sun was even up. He did not need want him working himself into the ground. Besides, he had a feeling they needed to talk this situation with the Court out a bit more. If nothing else, they could use Athos' take on the situation before deciding what to do next.

At the bottom of the stairs, the pair sat down across from one another at their table. D'Artagnan looked about the courtyard for any sign of Aramis, surprised that he had not been waiting for them when they had come back out. He had not thought they had been in Athos' office all that long.

"Where'd Aramis go?" D'Artagnan asked when he saw no sign of him.

"Dunno," Porthos said. "Off doing something probably. I can't believe we had to fight Athos on looking into those disappearances. I mean, if it was anywhere else but the Court, he'd have been all over it. Guess he doesn't care of about them any more than anybody else does."

"Porthos, you know that's not true," d'Artagnan admonished. "Athos cares about those people the same as we do. But he's in a precarious position right now. You know the Cardinal would love to have an excuse to raze the entire Court to the ground. The last thing we want to do is to accidentally give him one."

Porthos blew out a breath and shook his head. "I know, Whelp. It just makes me angry sometimes. Those people, it's not their fault they're poor. They're just trying to get by. They shouldn't have to live their lives afraid of being driven off because somebody felt they weren't good enough."

"I know. And we're not going to let that happen. Not if we can stop it. But part of that is not giving the Cardinal any ammunition to begin with. That's all Athos is trying to do. He's not telling us not to do this, he's just telling us to be careful how we go about it."

By the time Athos finally came down the stairs the sun was just starting to set. Porthos had calmed considerably and he and d'Artagnan had spent the time going over what information they had managed to gather so far. They had been trying to put that into context with what they had observed in the area before their meeting with Flea when Athos had arrived.

"Gentlemen," Athos greeted, tipping his head at the two of them. He looked around the courtyard for their missing brother but did not see them. "Where is Aramis?"

"Dunno," Porthos shrugged. 

"He was here when we arrived," d'Artagnan said, glancing around himself for the man. "But when we came back down after reporting in he was gone."

"And you have not seen him since?"

"No," d'Artagnan replied.

"I am here," came Aramis' soft voice from just inside the infirmary doorway. He was in his shirt, the sleeves rolled up, his doublet folded over his arm. For all that his attire made him appear open, accessible even, he had never looked more closed off. His eyes, even shaded by the brim of his hat, had a hooded look to them.

"We ready to go then?" Porthos asked, pushing back from the table abruptly. He was more than ready to return to the privacy of their home where they could talk without the worry of being overheard. Not waiting for a reply, he headed toward the main gate, trusting that his brothers would follow.

D'Artagnan cast a quick glance between his three brothers before shaking his head and hurrying after Porthos. He could understand his brother's desire to be home already. He felt an equal desire. It had been a long day and he had missed having Athos and Aramis with them.

"I suppose we best hurry if we do not wish to be left behind," Athos chuckled. 

"So it would seem," Aramis replied, though the words came our rather flat.

&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M

La Oscuridad swelled with unholy glee as it felt the Seminarian leave the garrison. It had not thought it could influence the dark one so easily. It had not done much, fearful of being discovered. The dark one had been touched before, after all. He knew what such a thing felt like. It would not do to alert them to its presence too soon. 

So it had been cautious. It has sensed it, letting itself barely brush over him. His emotions were so strong it had not needed to do more. After that, it had taken only the smallest of pushes to turn worry to fear, frustration to anger, to keep the man's mind so filled that there was room for little else... even his dear brother.

His dear brother. 

The Seminarian. 

It had only taken the gentlest of nudges there as well to leave him feeling their separation like a bloody wound. And oh how sweet that pain had been. It had been brief. Just a bright, hot spark when the dark one had virtually ignored then all but dismissed him. It was a crack in their normal impenetrable wall. Tiny and insignificant. As tiny and insignificant as it had been in the beginning after Bathory had been killed. But tiny, insignificant things could grow. It thought it might enjoy seeing just what it could grow this in to.

&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M

The walk home was a brisk one, much more so than Aramis had anticipated after a full day spent apart. He could understand Athos' desire to be home once more after being cooped up inside his office nearly the entire day but Porthos' focused intensity puzzled him. Whatever the problem was, it bothered his brother greatly, so much so that it gripped his mind refusing to allow for anything else. Aramis had seen him like this before though those occasions had been exceedingly rare... and exceedingly dire. 

Aramis felt his mouth turn to sand as he wondered what his brothers might have stumbled into to cause Porthos such worry. For his single-minded focus could be considered nothing else. His brother was worried about something to the point that it was consuming his every thought. A quick glimpse at d'Artagnan showed an answering disquiet in his own dark eyes. Aramis could not tell if it was about Porthos or if it, too, was about whatever this unknown situation was. 

As they drew near their home, Aramis could not help but feel a sense of... isolation from is brothers. They had, over the years, had separate assignments before. They had even been unable to share information from time to time as their locations had not been secure. This, however, felt different. He had not felt a separation... a wall... such as this since Marsac had returned and turned his life upside down. His brothers had distanced themselves from him then, too. Even his Athos had pulled away from him, wanting nothing to do with him as he struggled to find the answers he so desperately needed.

Shaking his head, Aramis forced those thoughts away angrily. They would serve no useful purpose therefor had no place here. Those ghosts had been laid to rest along with Marsac. They did not matter any more. What did matter was the here and now and whatever was going on with his brothers. Hopefully once they were safely inside the confines of their home, they would be able to discuss it and he would be able to see if he could help in some way.

They gathered round the kitchen table, glad to be home for the night. No matter what, being within these walls gave them a sense of peace, of security, that they had only ever found at the maison. They were free to be themselves here without fear of who might see or overhear something they should not. It lifted a burden from them that only grew heavier the longer they were forced to carry it.

Athos grabbed a bottle of wine and poured them all a drink. They raised their cups in celebration of a successful first day back then simply sat for a moment and let the stress of the day bleed away for a bit. A few moments later, d'Artagnan downed his wine, then stood. 

"Whelp?" Porthos called quizzically.

"Just need to put dinner on," d'Artagnan replied.

"Eh, let Aramis do it," Porthos said, waiving his arm dismissively toward Aramis. "We need to go over what we found out today."

D'Artagnan frowned, then glanced over at Aramis. He could see the surprise and embarrassment on the man's face even as he stared down at the tabletop, a dark flush staining his cheeks and spreading down his neck at being spoken of as if he were little more than the house servant. D'Artagnan started to say something but Aramis shook his head minutely and he subsided. A quick glance at Athos showed him to be as at a loss at Porthos' demeanor as he was. 

"Is there anything in particular I should prepare?" Aramis asked as he pushed back from the table and stood, careful to avoid eye contact with any of them.

"Just some stew," d'Artagnan said after a minute. "There's some rabbit left over to go in it."

"I shall see to it then," Aramis said, feigning as much enthusiasm as he could manage. "Perhaps you three would prefer to take your conversation into the sitting room? I am sure you would be more comfortable there."

"Good idea," Porthos said, standing abruptly. "Call us when dinner's ready."

Aramis nodded, swallowing thickly as he watched the others follow Porthos into the sitting room. Athos had hesitated, looking back and forth between him and Porthos but Aramis had turned away, unable to stand the pity in his brother's eyes. He had no idea what he had done to make them suddenly consider him so unworthy to even participate in their discussion. Was it simply that Athos had kept him at the garrison? He did not think that could be it? After all, he had stayed at the garrison many times before when Treville had been in need of him for one reason or another. And the infirmary had been in a deplorable state, completely unfit for use. It was still not up to his standards but it was at least passable in an emergency. Surely his brothers did not think....

Aramis forced his churning thoughts to stop, refusing to allow them to pull him into a downward spiral of self-doubt and despair. His brothers loved him and, more importantly, they _respected_ him. Whatever the reason for Porthos' seemingly uncharacteristic behavior, it had not been meant as a personal slight to him. Of that much he was sure. 

Satisfied, he began preparing the dinner d'Artagnan had suggested. He had assisted the boy often enough of late, he should be able to do this without destroying the place or requiring a trip to the infirmary. At least he hoped he could. He did not relish the thought of the incessant needling he would get if it proved otherwise.

The smell of dinner was enough to rouse the three men from their conversation. Porthos had apologized to Athos for his earlier outburst, telling his brother his only excuse had been his blind desire to protect the people he had once called family. Athos had taken his hand and told him he understood and to think no more about it. From there, they had gone over what they had found out, coming to the conclusion that it was most likely kidnappers of some sort, though what they would want of Court folk was still unsure.

"That smells wonderful, love," Porthos said as he entered the kitchen to find Aramis laying out the table.

"Ah," Aramis said, in surprise after placing warm bread on the table. "Well, ah, it will not be nearly as good as d'Artagnan's fare..."

"By the smell of it alone, I'd say it will," Athos said. 

"Go and wash up then," Aramis said, shooing them from his kitchen. "Everything will be ready by the time you get back."

"Alright," Athos grinned. He could sense a touch of nervousness in Aramis and wondered what might have caused it. Now that they were all safely home, he would have expected the man to be calmer, not the opposite. Understanding their lover wanted another moment to himself, he ushered the other two away so that they might clean up for dinner and give Aramis the time he had asked for.

"Everything okay with him?" D'Artagnan asked as they quickly bathed. 

"I believe so, yes," Athos replied. "We are all still finding our footing here. I know nothing of any real note happened at the garrison today."

"Good," Porthos said gruffly. "We got enough to worry about right now without having to worry about him, too."

"Mind your words, brother," Athos rebuked softly. "We know you mean no offense by them but Aramis may not see it that way."

Porthos opened his mouth to say more than snapped it shut. Athos was right. He had no idea where his earlier words had even come from. He did not mean to make it seem as though Aramis was some sort of burden, was some weakling that needed to be looked after and protected. He was one of the finest Musketeers in the entirety of the King's army. It would be wise for him, and everyone else, to remember that. 

"Thank you, brother," Porthos said. "I will keep a better leash on my tongue. I did not mean to let it get away from me as it did. Now let us join our brother. I, for one, would like some of that dinner he laid out."

Dinner itself was a companionable affair. They spoke of old acquaintances and new friends. Athos filled them in on the new members of the garrison as well as the new recruits hoping to earn their commission. He told Porhtos and d'Aratagnan that Aramis would be helping him oversee the training of the recruits as well as seeing to the infirmary. He also wanted Aramis to choose an apprentice healer from among the men, if he felt there were any suitable candidates.

"There are one or two," Aramis said hesitantly. He had not been prepared to have this conversation now, wanting to discuss it privately with Athos first.

"Really? Who?" D'Artagnan asked.

"The most promising is Francois. I was taking to him earlier. He is intrigued by the idea but is yet unsure if it is a path he could walk. I told him to think about it and that regardless of his decision, I would be happy to teach him anything he wished to know."

"Is that the one we saw you talking with when we first entered the courtyard?" D'Artagnan continued.

"Ah, yes," Aramis replied. 

"Why did he leave?"

"His shift was over. I believe he and some of the other recruits were headed to a pub."

They fell silent after that as they finished their meal, each mans' mind wandering back over the days' events. While that seemed to relax the others, allowing them to put things in some semblance of order for the coming day, for Porthos it only made him more tense. Every thought only brought yet another question with it until they threatened to explode out of his head.

"Porthos?" Aramis called softly. He had seen his lover growing more and more tense as the minutes ticked by and could no longer remain silent. "What is it, love?"

"I just can't stop thinking about it," he said, shaking his head angrily at both the situation and himself for reacting so. "I mean, where do we even begin? They could be hustling these people straight onto boats for all we. If that's the case, we'll never catch 'me."

"Come now, Porthos," Athos said gently, "You believe that no more than I do. What would be the purpose? Where would they take them? Most of those taken do not strike me as fit for field work. Besides, taking them anywhere by ship is costly. I do not see whoever is behind this as willing to spend that kind of coin. Not if they are targeting the Court to being with."

"You're right," Porthos said, calming a bit. "But that still leaves any number of ways to get them out of Paris."

"Actually, it leaves only a few," Aramis put in. "I don't mean to pry, but it would entirely depend on how many they are taking at a time and again how many they are attempting to transport at a time. If it is one or two then yes there are any number of way to do so, however if they are attempting to transport say 4 or 5 then the number of ways is greatly lessened.

"There is also the matter of containment. Again, if they are only holding one or two at at time then they could be almost anywhere within a certain distance from the Court. However, if they are attempting to hold more than that at once, then it would need to be closer, larger and sturdier. That cuts down the number of possible locations considerably."

"We need to check with Flea, see what else she can tell us about any of these people," Porthos said determinedly. "Dates they went missing, who they were seen with in the days leading up to their disappearance. If any of their friends or loved ones disappeared as well."

"Agreed," Athos said rather reluctantly. "Though I don't much like the idea of the two of you going back into the Court alone."

"She, uh, she said it would be best if if was just me," Porthos said as he rubbed at the back of his neck and reused to meet any of their eyes.

"Well she can go to hell," Aramis said, surprising them all. "You are not going into that place alone. And before you even start, it has nothing to do with _her_. Those kidnappers or whatever they are have the ability to move freely about the place. Who's to say they aren't already aware of your presence. If you show up there alone they may decide to simply kill you and dump your body into river."

"I'm afraid I must concur with Aramis in this," Athos said. "I said you can look into this, but you must use caution. If you wish to talk to Flea, to get more information, then do so, but either take d'Aragnan with you or she comes to us."

Porthos looked at his lovers and sighed. "Alright," he agreed. "No rushing in headfirst without thinking. We've got the Whelp for that."

"Hey!"

"Come on, let's get this mess cleaned up and get to bed," Athos said. "I, for one, am exhausted."


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to Snow_Glory for all the help (and hand-holding) for this part.

When Athos rose the next morning, he had not expected to find Aramis already up. Entering the kitchen, he found the man placing a note atop a covered dish. His doublet and weapons were laid out on the table next to Athos' own, as were two plates filled with still-warm food.

"I see you've been busy this morning," Athos mused as he walked over to him.

"I was up," Aramis shrugged. He smiled when Athos drew near and pulled him into a soft kiss.

"Thank you for this, love."

"D'Artagnan is not the only one who does not like the thought of you going into the garrison alone," Aramis said.

Breakfast was finished quickly and they were soon on their way. Neither man was surprised that Porthos and d'Artagnan had not woken. It was still over an hour before sunrise and they had spent a long day patrolling yesterday. In truth, Athos would have preferred if Aramis had rested a bit more himself, but he knew his brother would refuse. Besides, if Aramis was with him then at least Athos knew he was out of harm's way.

As they made their way to the garrison Aramis could tell that something weighed on Athos' mind. While his brother was not unaware of his surroundings, for Athos would never put both of them in such jeopardy, his thoughts were clearly preoccupied with something.

"Tell me," Aramis said, moving closer to Athos so that their words would not carry. 

Athos paused for a moment in his stride then shook his head as he continued. "You are always so in tune with me, brother."

"Is that a good thing or a bad one?" Aramis quipped, hoping to ease the other man.

"A good one," Athos assured him. "It is always a good thing. Even when it reveals the parts of me I do not wish it to, that I would keep hidden inside me. That you see me, that you know me so well as to know my very thoughts even as I think them..."

"If I did that, I would not need to ask," Aramis chuckled.

"You probably do not. You simply wish me to feel as though the choice is still my own."

"Would you rather..."

"Never," Athos cut him off. "As I said, it is a balm to me that you know me as you do. Quite frankly, it amazes me that the knowledge has never once turned you from the sight of me in disgust."

"Now you are simply being foolish," Aramis chided softly. He could understand Athos' point, though. He had thought very similar things himself when his own past had come to light. He still did at times, unable to quite fathom how they could still bring themselves to look at him. 

They let their conversation lapse as they walked through the front gate, nodding to the sentries as they passed as well as the few other men that were about. They knew none of the men would think anything of Aramis accompanying Athos up to his office, especially this early in the morning, most likely attributing it to the man helping him work out the day's assignments. Only when they were safely inside with the door secured did they resume their talk.

"Tell me," Aramis said again as he and Athos sat down at the small table in his office.

Athos looked at Aramis then looked away. He fidgeted in his chair, suddenly more nervous than he could understand. This was Aramis. Of all of them, he would surely understand both d'Artagnan's request and Athos' own concerns in regards to them. He certainly would not think ill of either of them. Still, he found himself reluctant. It was almost as if he was ashamed of what Aramis might think of him for wanting to indulge d'Artagnan in this.

"Athos?"

"I am sorry," Athos said, chagrined. "I am struggling with this more than I thought I would. It is not you, brother. Just... give me a moment."

"All the time you need," Aramis said, reaching out and clasping Athos' arm briefly. "And if you do not wish to speak of this, we do not have to. I only saw that..."

"No, I do," Athos told him, not wanting Aramis to think he did not want to talk to him about this for some reason. 

"Very well," Aramis said, sitting back in his chair. He would give Athos however long he needed to get his thoughts in order. He had not realized when he had asked him about whatever was on his mind how cumbersome an issue it was for the man. Had he done so, he would have waited until they were in a much more private setting.

"D'Artagnan has asked me for something," Athos began hesitantly.

"And this troubles you?"

"In a manner," he hedged. "It is not the request, per se, but rather how I might act upon fulfilling it that gives me cause for concern."

Aramis leaned forward and frowned, unsure what d'Artagnan could possibly have asked of Athos that would have him so worried. What was even more confusing, however, was Athos' careful wording. How could he be more concerned for his own reaction than the lad's request itself?

"I don't understand," Aramis said. "What is it he wants?"

"He wants what we did before, only... only just the two of us." 

"Before?"

"When I took control," Athos explained.

"Oh," Aramis said, a bit surprised. He could understand now why Athos was concerned. He remembered that time all too well. His brother had donned the cloak of dominance eagerly. He had done a thorough job of it, too. So much so that Aramis was unsure if he could handle seeing him in such a role again. Yet the thought of Athos taking on such a role with d'Artagnan alone, when neither he nor Porthos were near to ensure that things did not go too far, was enough to have his heart hammering in his chest.

"Aramis?"

Shaking his head, Aramis forced his thoughts back to the conversation at hand. "Is there something in particular the lad has in mind, or does he simply wish to explore this dynamic between the two of you?"

"No, there is something in particular he wants," Athos admitted, looking away again. He could tell that something about the idea did not sit well with his brother. He remembered how difficult their original encounter had been on Aramis. He had thought they had settled the matter but now he had to wonder if perhaps they did not need to speak of it again.

"What is it?" Aramis pressed gently, pushing his own worries aside as much as he could. He did not want to taint this for his brothers and if Athos thought this would distress him in some way then he would not do it. Besides, his brother had come to him for his counsel and Aramis would see that he had it.

Athos looked at the other man and sighed. He knew Aramis was not going to let this rest until he had told him. In truth, Athos wanted to tell him. Aramis was much more versed in these situations than he was and he needed his advise. 

"Our last encounter together," he began, "when he was beneath you and took you in his mouth. He found the experience quite enjoyable. Much more so than he had thought he would. He believes it was the lack of control, that there was little he could do but lie there and let his mouth be used, that made it so intense for him. He wishes to experience this again. With me."

"And you are worried for this why?" Aramis asked. He remembered d'Artagnan's reaction at the end when he had lost control and all but rutted the boy's mouth. He did not understand why Athos was so worried.

"Because he wishes me to do so while acting as I did before, when..."

"When dominating him," Aramis said when Athos trailed off.

"Yes," Athos nodded. "And I worry for how far I might go. You saw how I was, how much of a bastard I became from the very start. He said... said I may use him in any manner I see fit as long as I make use of his mouth in the manner requested. He even went so far as to say I might... might punish him if he displeased me in any way."

"Punish how?" Aramis asked, sitting up. He did not care for the sound of that, not with Athos acting in such a manner. He was not trying to be hypocritical, to tell them what they could and could not do. It was not that he did not trust his brother, but rather that he did not altogether trust the pair of them to know when to stop before they went too far. These were not roles they were accustomed to taking and d’Artagnan had a propensity to feel far more guilt than was merited. Under normal circumstances, that would not be of too great a concern, but with Athos acting the “bastard” as he put it…

"He said that would be up to me," Athos shrugged, interrupting Aramis’ thoughts.

Aramis felt his fear pulse hotly at the almost nonchalant answer. It was one of the things Aramis feared the most, that the pair would not give this the careful thought it needed and a misstep would get made. Just because d’Artagnan was accustomed to handing out discipline to him did not mean he knew how to handle it from the other side of things. And Athos… Aramis did not believe Athos had much if any experience at this sort of thing at all. The thought of d'Artagnan being harmed, of _Athos_ harming him, especially like this was nauseating and Aramis had to clamp down hard on his emotions to keep his eyes from betraying the anguish inside of him.

"I realize this is something that he wants," Aramis began carefully. "Something that you both want. I would only caution you to be mindful. He is new to this, at least from that side of things, as are you. And none of us would see you make a misstep here, brother."

"Do you think us unwise for even attempting such a thing?" Athos asked.

"No," Aramis replied hastily. "I would not see either of you denied the chance. Just... be careful, brother."

&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M

By the time Porthos and d’Artagnan returned to the garrison, Porthos was in a foul mood. D’Artagnan, too, was frustrated by their lack of progress but Porthos seemed to take it as some sort of personal affront. Even now he was pacing back and forth in front of Athos’ desk all but demanding to know why they could not assign more than just the two of them to investigate these disappearances. 

“I’m not asking you to send the whole bloody garrison,” Porthos spat angrily. “But would it truly hurt to send a few more men down there? They could ask around, cover the less likely areas so we could at least tick them off the list as possibilities.”

“And when the Cardinal got wind of it?” Athos shot back, growing annoyed at this open defiance. Porthos may not like his decision, but it was still his decision to make.

“So what if he does?” Porthos challenged.

“Will you still think that way, brother, when he uses it as an excuse to raid the place? All he’d need do is whisper in the king’s ear that kidnappers were using the Court to come and go and stating the Musketeers had proof of it. Am I to lie to the king now?”

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” Porthos grumbled.

“No, it would not be,” Athos agreed. “So tell me, which of your fellow Musketeers will you force to do the same? Which of them will you force to either lie to the king or accuse me of treason for doing so?”

Porthos stared at Athos, his words locked in his throat. He felt d’Artagnan come up beside him and clasp his shoulder. Closing his eyes for a moment, he tried to get himself back under control. He did not know why this was angering him like it was. It seemed the least little thing was apt to set him off of late.

“I’m sorry,” he said, shaking his head. “I don’t know what came over me. I just… I want to help these people, Athos. They have no one else to turn to and I… I feel we are failing them.”

“I understand your desire to help them, Porthos. I do. I want to help them, too. We will find out who is behind this and we will put an end to it but it will not happen overnight. And we cannot end up doing more harm than good when all is said and done.”

“I know, brother,” Porthos said wearily. “I know.”

As they headed toward home, Aramis could tell that things had gone no better this day than the day before. Porthos was nearly simmering with anger and Aramis was at a loss as to how to help him. He longed to reach out to him, to let him know that he was there and that he would support him in this however he could. Yet any time he tried to draw near, Porthos shied away. The last time, he had all but shoved d’Artagnan between them in an effort to keep Aramis at bay. The act had drawn Aramis up short and he had fallen back from the others as that horrible feeling of isolation took root once more.

“Aramis?” Athos called, looking down the street to where his brother stood unmoving. He had noticed him pull back after Porthos had rebuffed his attempt to get close yet again. He knew Porthos was still bothered by what was going on with the Court but Aramis had nothing to do with that and Athos was at a loss as to why the man was acting as he was.

“Sorry,” Aramis said smiling wanly as he hurried to catch up. The last thing he wanted was to give them any more reasons to be annoyed with him. 

“It will be alright,” Athos whispered when he drew close. He grasped his arm, squeezing it briefly. “I do not know why he is so agitated. Nothing happened during their patrol that I am aware of.”

“Thank you,” Aramis replied softly, his heart easing at Athos’ reassurance. “I know I should not…”

“Are you two coming or not?” Porthos called loudly, glowering at the pair as he interrupted their hushed conversation. 

“We shall be along presently,” Athos said calmly, refusing to back down in the face of Porthos’ challenge. “You and d’Artagnan can go on ahead.”

“Athos…” Aramis whispered, his eyes glued to the other men a bit further up the street.

Athos did not reply, merely squeezing Aramis’ arm gently. He kept his eyes locked on Porthos until the man finally looked away, snarling angrily as he grabbed d’Artagnan and hurried on toward their home.

“He has been pushing me ever since this business with the Court began,” Athos explained wearily. “I appreciate that he wants to help these people but he is crossing a line and he knows it.”

“He does know it,” Aramis said. “He is not doing this to bait you. He is genuinely distressed and knows no other way to… to express it. It is not you he is rebelling against, Athos. It is the situation. It is the very system we seek to uphold that makes it so difficult to find justice for these people. That is the part that he is finding so difficult.”

“Perhaps,” Athos acquiesced. “But that does not give him the right to be disrespectful. Until Treville’s return, I am his Captain. He would do well to remember that.”

“He has not forgotten,” Aramis told him. “But it is hard for him to look at you and not see his brother. You can be Captain and friend and lover but under all of that, you are his brother. He cannot see you as anything else. He means you no disrespect, brother. He would never be disrespectful to you.”

“Alright,” Athos said, willing to let that particular argument go for now. He squeezed Aramis’ arm once more and got them moving toward home again, though at a much slower pace. “What about you?”

“What about me?” Aramis asked, frowning in confusion. “Have I been disrespectful to you in some way? I assure you I did not mean to.”

“No, brother,” Athos shook his head. “That is not what I meant. I was referring to Porthos’ disrespectful attitude toward you.”

“Oh,” Aramis said softly, his voice suddenly sounding much smaller.

“Aramis?”

“'Tis nothing, Athos. I am sure he just had a lot on his mind. You know how focused he can become at times. I should have known to let him be.”

“You were only trying to be near him,” Athos reasoned. “You were not intruding. You were not interrupting him. I have no idea why he is treating you so callously all of a sudden.”

“Do not trouble yourself over this,” Aramis said dismissively. “You have plenty enough to worry about trying to run things. Porthos is merely preoccupied. 'Twas no more than that. Now come. Let us get home before the Whelp comes looking for us.”

When Athos and Aramis walked in they found Porthos and d’Artagnan just finishing shedding their weapons and doublets. “‘Bout time,” Porthos muttered all but stomping into the kitchen, his annoyance like a cloud around him.

Athos stiffened and took a step as if to follow but Aramis’ hand on his arm stopped him. “Please,” he said softly. 

Athos looked at him and shook his head then turned back to begin removing his own weapons. He cast a quick glance at d’Artagnan and saw the young man nod then turn to follow Porthos into the kitchen. Athos could only hope that he could shed some light as to what was going on with the man. It had to be more than simply his desire to see justice for Flea and the Court. 

Athos found himself pausing then. He had assumed Porthos’ almost obsessive desire to find those responsible stemmed from his ties to the place he had called home as a child. Perhaps, his desire was fueled by something a bit more… personal… than that. Porthos himself had said that Flea wanted her future meetings with him to be alone. Now Athos found himself asking why. Why did it matter if d’Artagnan accompanied Porthos into the Court? Surely her watchdogs would know to let the lad pass unharmed. What was going on that they did not want anyone else to know of?

“Athos? What is it?” Aramis asked. They had finished stripping down to their shirts and breeches but Athos was simply standing as if lost in thought and from the look on his face, the thoughts were not pleasant ones.

“Nothing,” Athos said quickly, wincing inside at how unconvincing he had sounded. 

Aramis stepped closer so that their shoulders touched. “Tell me, brother,” he whispered so that no one else could hear.

“It truly is nothing,” Athos assured him, refusing to voice his unfounded concerns without at least some smidgeon of proof. “The day has been long. My thoughts merely got away from me for a moment.”

“Very well,” Aramis said, letting it go for now. “But I am here if you wish to talk.”

When they entered the kitchen they found Porthos and d’Artagnan huddled together at the table talking over the day’s events. Both men looked up at their entrance. Porthos’ eyes were still hard in a way that made both Athos and Aramis want to flinch while d’Artagnan’s looked lost. 

Taking a breath, Aramis plastered on his best smile though he knew it fell far short of his eyes. “If you all wish to retire to the sitting room, I shall put dinner on and call you when it’s ready.”

“You don’t have to do that,” Athos said, turning to Aramis.

“Good idea. Come on, you two,” Porthos said as he stood. “We need to figure out what to do next. Me and the Whelp keep hitting dead ends. If we don’t come up with something we may have no choice but to ask one or two of our brothers for help.”

Aramis felt Porthos’ words like a slap. One or two of their brothers? He would turn to others before so much as discussing their investigation with him? Was his input so worthless now? Did he have so very little to offer that he should be relegated to little more than their house boy? He felt tears sting his eyes as the cause of Porthos’ dismissal of him became clear. He had known his brother would not see him the same after he revealed his past to them. He had said as much. He had never dreamed the consequences would be so far-reaching, though. He had never thought Porthos would see him as no longer worthy to fight by his side. 

Taking a breath, Aramis forced those thoughts away. He was being ridiculous. Surely Porthos would not have waited until now to act in such a manner. So perhaps it was the culmination of everything. Of the ruins, of _them_ , of Bathory, all of it that made Porthos no longer consider him worthy of the pauldron he wore. If that was the case, he would need to speak to Athos and Treville. While the garrison did not usually have a permanent medic stationed at it, perhaps Treville would be willing to consider it. He could help train the recruits as they came and went as well. But while the Captain might be willing to consider the idea, the king was another story. He would not take the idea of his best marksman tying himself to the garrison well at all. He may even refuse to allow it. In that case, his only recourse might be to resign altogether. Better that than be forced to ride with others and he refused to be the reason his brothers were divided.

In the sitting room, Athos pulled the chair around so it was sitting in front of the divan and sat down. He looked at Porthos long and hard, studying him. He saw d’Artagnan glance between them from the corner of his eyes but he ignored the younger man. D’Artagnan was not the problem here. 

“What is going on with you, brother?” Athos asked calmly. Antagonizing Porthos further would get them nowhere. He needed answers not more angry blustering. 

“Nothing,” Porthos replied, his voice surly. 

“Nothing? Really?,” Athos pressed gently. “For I do not believe that is true. Something is wrong. Porthos, I cannot help you if I do not know what it is you struggle with.”

Porthos blew out a breath and scrubbed a hand over his face. “It’s just this investigation, Athos,” he said wearily. “We are getting nowhere. Every avenue we pursue leads to yet another dead end. It is disheartening. These people need our help and…”

“I know they do,” Athos said, trying to calm his growing agitation. “We are doing everything we can. We will continue to do so until we have found whoever is behind this and brought them to justice. We will not leave these people to suffer, Porthos. I give you my word. Now tell me what else.”

“There is nothing else.”

“Then explain to me why you are all but shunning Aramis,” Athos said, stating it as plainly as he could. 

“What are you on about?”

“You would not so much as allow him to walk near you on the way home,” Athos began. “And this is the second time you have spoken to him as if he is our servant rather than our brother. I have seen you afford more courtesy to common strangers than you have to our brother of late and I would know why.”

“Athos…” Porthos began, trailing off as he shook his head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Do you not even recall what you said when leaving the kitchen?” Athos asked, an inkling of fear growing inside of him. When Porthos only looked at him blankly, he went on. “You said that if we, meaning we three, could not figure something out you might need to ask one or two of our brothers for help. You made no mention of consulting Aramis at all. And you are a fool if you think he did not pick up on that slight.”

“I… I did not mean it like that.”

“Then how did you mean it? How else could you possibly have meant that?” Athos pressed. “And since when is Aramis our cook? I realize he has not been going out on patrol with you but that does not mean he has been idle. He has spent his day working just as hard or harder than you have. You have no right to expect him to wait on you as if he were your servant. He may be your lover, but he is mine, too and I will let only so many slights pass, brother.”

Porthos could feel his anger stirring once more as Athos took him to task. Sitting up straighter, he locked eyes with the man. “You know, for such a big deal, I don’t recall hearing his Master making any comment about it. Are you sure you’re not the one making a fuss over nothing?”

“He’s not,” d’Artagnan said quietly, speaking up at last. 

Back in the kitchen, Aramis felt humiliation roll through him like a sickening wave. His brothers were not aware just how well the voices from the sitting room seemed to carry into the kitchen. D’Artagnan surely knew for he was the one that did the majority of the cooking, at least he did until recently. Aramis supposed that was why he had refrained from entering the conversation until the very end. 

He knew Athos meant no harm, was actually trying to help, but to be spoken of in such a manner made him feel small and insignificant in a way that very few things ever did. He had told Athos before that it felt like they were once again controlling his life, that he had no say in his own destiny. It felt even more so now. 

Taking deep breath after deep breath, Aramis forced himself to calm. His brothers had enough to deal with right now without him adding to it. Porthos was already put out with him and it was beginning to cause friction between him and Athos. As soon as he got the chance he would speak with Athos and let him know that he did not need to attempt to intercede on his behalf. Perhaps, if Athos did not object, he would take some time tomorrow and visit Father Michel. His guidance was always sound and Aramis found himself sorely in need of it.

Dinner was a tense affair. No matter how hard Athos and d’Artagnan tried to draw Aramis into the conversation, he remained resistant. When Athos finally brought up their investigation, hoping to showcase just how much Aramis had to offer in that regard Aramis actually excused himself from the table and began cleaning up the kitchen. Athos watched him go, feeling helpless as to what to do. When he looked at d’Artagnan he saw an answering helplessness. 

Even Porthos looked lost as to his brother’s abrupt departure and felt ashamed of his earlier words. He had not meant it to seem as though Aramis’ opinions were unwelcome. Athos might be a great strategist, but of all of them, Aramis was by far the most intelligent. He tended to see things from a perspective that others often didn’t. That made his insights invaluable. That Porthos had made him doubt himself in this regard shamed him. 

“I’ll talk to him,” Porthos said as he started to rise.

“No,” d’Artagnan said softly. “Leave him be for now.”

“Whelp?” Porthos frowned. He would have thought the boy would be all but pushing him toward the man.

“He’s hurting. If you try to get near him now, you’ll only back him into a corner and you know that never ends well,” d’Artagnan explained as quietly as he could, not wanting Aramis to hear them talking about him yet again. He knew the man had most likely heard their entire discussion in the sitting room earlier and had no desire to further humiliate his brother. 

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The shelves rattled in the small shed as La Oscuridad whirled about its prison. Its hold on the dark one had slipped in the face of the others’ scrutiny but perhaps that was for the best. It could not afford to be careless now. It could scent freedom on the air. It would not be trapped here much longer.

In the meantime, it could soothe itself with the Seminarian’s pain. For he had felt the dark one’s dismissal like another would feel a knife rending flesh. It left his soul torn and bleeding in a way that little else could. And it had taken surprisingly little to achieve. A push here. A twist there. The dark one had been touched before. While it left him with a slightly greater awareness, it left him more susceptible, too. He already held such worry for his brother, such fear. It had taken next to nothing to turn that worry and fear to annoyance and anger. 

The Seminarian’s own uncertainty made him vulnerable as well. And it knew this one’s mind intimately. It knew his fears, his doubts. It made him manipulatable, allowing it to warp suspicion into self-doubt with ease. 

It would need to be cautious, though. If it moved too quickly, pushed too hard, it could alert the dark man. Worse still, it could alert the Seminarian. He was the true threat, for he was the only one of them with the knowledge and power to be of any real danger to it. It was paramount that he remain unaware of it until it had grown strong enough to break free of this place. 

Once it was free, there would be no stopping it then. Once it was free, it would hunt the Seminarian down and it would make him watch while it laid waste to everything he loved. It would break his spirit then it would break his body and finally, it would break his mind. Perhaps then, when he was a broken shell, it would finally grant him the release of death. But only after it tired of hearing him scream.

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Aramis was not surprised to find that the sun had not yet risen when he awoke. What he was surprised to find was that he was alone. While it was possible that Athos had already left for the garrison, he doubted if Porthos and d’Artagnan had. Suddenly worried, he hurried from the room only to freeze in the open doorway of the master bedroom.

Relieved to see his brothers sleeping peacefully together, safe and sound, he quietly backed out of the doorway pulling the door closed behind him. He tried to ignore the way his heart twisted at the knowledge that they had simply left him sleeping in the other room, neither joining him nor waking him to join them. He tried not to take it as yet another slight, telling himself that they simply had not wanted to disturb his sleep. Yet that did not explain why none of them had joined him. Surely Athos or d’Artagnan could have stayed with him. 

“Stop it,” Aramis snarled under his breath. He had no right to expect his lovers to coddle him as if he were a child. They had done that enough at the maison and it was clear they had grown quite tired of it. They had obviously wanted to stay together last night. They had either not wanted to wake him or simply had not wanted his company. Either way, it was not his place to question their choice. He had no right to demand they share his bed. He did not own them. They owed him nothing and he needed to stop behaving like a spoilt child if he ever wanted them to treat him like a man again.

Dressed, Aramis went to the kitchen and began to prepare breakfast. He thought to himself that, if nothing else, he was getting quite adept at cooking. D’Artagnan should be pleased with no longer being habitually tasked with the job. Once the food was ready, Aramis tried to eat but he found he had no appetite. Rather than force himself, he divided his portion among his brothers and cleaned up what he could as he waited for Athos to wake and come down. He briefly considered leaving a note and heading into the garrison alone but thought better of it. Athos’ edict was still in place after all and Aramis did not want to do anything to further anger his brothers.

When Athos came down he was surprised to find Aramis sitting in the kitchen with breakfast laid out. They had gone to bed very late last night, having spent long hours going over everything the pair had been able to find out so far. As it was, Athos was still a bit sleepy so missed the slightly hurt look in Aramis’ eyes when he entered the kitchen.

“Not eating?” Athos asked.

“Already did,” Aramis replied. “Just waiting for you so we could head in.”

“Oh,” Athos said. “You could have gone on. I doubt anyone is up and about this time of the morning.”

“Ah, well,” Aramis shrugged. “Better safe than sorry. Besides, I’m not at all sure Porthos would be pleased with such behavior if he became aware. Best to just wait.”

“Aramis…”

“Ready?” Aramis asked, standing. He really did not want to discuss Porthos and whatever was going on with him. He needed to talk to Athos about trying to intercede on his behalf but he did not want to do that here. 

“Yes,” Athos sighed. He could understand Aramis’ reluctance. Some conversations were best had in private and this was likely one of them. They didn’t speak again until they were safely inside Athos’ office, the door closed and a fire burning in the hearth. Athos took Aramis’ hand then and squeezed it encouragingly. “Talk to me.”

Lifting Athos’ hand to his lips, Aramis placed a brief kiss to his knuckles. “I do not want you to attempt to intervene on my behalf with Porthos again,” Aramis stated plainly.

“Why not?” Athos frowned.

“Because it causes strife amongst you and I would not have that. Not because of me. You have enough going on with trying to run this place. Porthos and d’Artagnan have an active investigation concerning kidnappers to worry about. None of you need the additional stress. Let it go, Athos. If for no other reason then because I am asking it of you.”

“Very well,” Athos agreed reluctantly. “But if he becomes belligerent, I will step in. As I told him last night, you are my lover as well and I will only stand idly by for so long.”

“There is one other thing I would speak with you about.”

“What is it?”

“Would you mind terribly if I visited Michel today?” Aramis asked, his face growing warm at having to ask permission. Then he remembered that he was on duty and would have had to ask Treville for such leave if it were him. That helped take the sting out of it, still he knew he would need someone to escort him there and was unsure how they would manage it with Porthos and d’Artagnan on patrol.

“No, brother,” Athos said, smiling softly if a bit sadly at him. That Aramis felt the need to seek such solace from the priest made Athos ache inside but he could understand it. He sat back for a moment, thinking of the best way to do this. He couldn’t really escort Aramis himself and had no intention of even saying anything to Porthos or d’Artagnan. He also didn’t want to ask any of their brethren. While the majority of them would surely understand, Aramis would feel utterly humiliated to a degree that Athos was unsure he could tolerate. 

“Athos?” Aramis queried when Athos failed to say anything else.

“It is still early enough,” Athos said, attempting to appear indifferent. “If you left now, there would likely be very few about yet.”

“You would not mind me going alone?” Aramis asked, stunned.

“I am not thrilled with the idea,” Athos admitted. “But it is not reckless. You will be on your guard and you are more than capable of protecting yourself should the need arise.”

“Thank you,” Aramis said, gratitude stealing his voice for a moment. He had not expected such a thing, for Athos to trust him like this. It went a long way toward quieting the growing fears inside of him.

“Do not thank me for this,” Athos huffed. “Just… if it is not asking too much… do you think Michel could come back with you? I would like to see him again and…”

“It is not asking too much,” Aramis told him. “I know that it will be mid-day and the streets will be crowded. I know you only wish to keep me from running into Pierre unaccompanied. Michel will understand as well, the need at least if not the reasons behind it.”

“Alright,” Athos said, relieved. “Go on and get out of here.”

When Aramis came out of Athos’ office he was not surprised to spy his brothers just coming through the front gate. He supposed it was better than passing them in the street. He knew it was somewhat cowardly but he had no heart for conflict this morning so he descended the stairs and headed to the infirmary. He waited there until he heard them enter Athos’ office then he headed for the front gate and Saint-Severin.

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“Aramis!” Michel called out happily when he saw the man enter his church. No one else was there this early in the morning and Michel hurried to greet his friend.

“Hello, Michel,” Aramis said as he hugged the priest.

“You are troubled,” Michel said when he pulled back.

“Yes. Yes, my friend, I am,” Aramis said, nearly choking. 

“Come on,” Michel said as he took him by the arm and led him toward the front of the church. “Come and tell me what troubles you. Perhaps this old man can be of some help.”

“You are always of help to me. You are a balm to my very soul.”

Slowly Aramis told Michel of what all had been going on of late between him and his brothers. As he explained, he again had to wonder if he was not making too much of nothing, if he was not letting his own insecurities color his perception. He hoped Michel, with his fresh outlook and greater wisdom would be able to offer some much needed advice.

“I must say, I do not like this,” Michel said once Aramis finished. “From all I have seen of your brothers, this is not like them, not any of them.”

“And here I had hoped you would tell me I was making too much of things,” Aramis chuckled weakly. He had sincerely hoped Michel would tell him he was over-reacting. Of late, he was growing more and more scared that he would never stand side-by-side with them again. 

“There is still hope of that,” Michel offered. “But you and I both know that true evil exists in this world and it is insidious. It works its wickedness in subtle ways. We must ever and always be on our guard against it.”

“You do not think…”

“No,” Michel told him, seeing the panic on his face. “But we would be fools to discount the possibility altogether. Just know that I am here for you and that you can call upon me here whenever you so desire. Let Saint-Severin be a haven for you, my son. Now, let us pray together and turn our worries over to God.”

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“Where do you plan to investigate today?” Athos asked, entering his office and closing the door. Porthos and d’Artagnan had been waiting for him there while he handed out the morning assignments. He shivered as he walked to his desk, a cold draft running down his spine. 

“Down near the merchant district,” Porthos replied. 

“I thought you talked to them yesterday.”

“We did,” d’Artagnan answered crossly. He gave a shudder, suddenly cold and glanced toward the hearth to see if the fire had gone out but it was still burning. “We didn’t find out much, though. We know they have information they just don’t want to tell us. If Aramis was with us…”

“Come again?” Athos asked, raising an eyebrow at the unexpected comment.

“Knows people down there,” Porthos said gruffly. “Or people know him. Either way, they’d talk.”

“Hm. So you want nothing to do with Aramis until you need him, is that it?” Athos asked challengingly. “A bit hypocritical wouldn’t you say?”

“Athos…” d’Artagnan trailed off, unsure what to say to that. Athos had a point but that didn’t make them wrong. It wasn’t so much that they wanted nothing to do with him as they just hadn’t needed his input until now.

“Look, I said I was sorry about that,” Porthos groused. “I was preoccupied with trying to find these kidnappers. I’m sorry if I hurt his feelings or whatever by not holding his hand walking down the fucking street.”

“That is not what I meant and you know it,” Athos said. He took a deep breath and forced his anger back down. He had a job to do here and had no right to let his personal life interfere with that. “But as you said we already discussed that. Very well. See what you can find out. If you have made no progress by tonight we may need to reconsider our options.”

“We ain’t quitting!” Porthos snapped.

“I did not say we were,” Athos fired back as he shot to his feet. “And you would do well to mind your tongue. Speak to me in such a manner in front of others and I will have no choice but to reprimand you.”

“Yes Sir,” Porthos replied, his hands balling into fists as he struggled to hold onto his temper.

“I believe you two have an investigation to see to,” Athos said, sitting down and turning his attention to the papers on his desk once more. “I suggest you get to it.”

Porthos opened his mouth but d’Artagnan grabbed him by the arm and pulled him toward the door. Snapping his mouth shut, he let the other man drag him out, slamming the door behind him loudly as he did so. 

Athos blew out a breath when the door slammed shut behind his brothers. He leaned back in his chair and ran a hand through his hair. He only hoped d’Artagnan was able to get Porthos under some semblance of control. The last thing he wanted was to have to reprimand his brother but he could not allow such blatant disrespect to go unchallenged, not in public. 

As he thought about the situation, his mind turned to the struggle the pair was having. Athos felt another wave of cold air along his back and glanced toward the shuttered window for the source of the draft. He rubbed his temple as his head began to ache and closed his eyes for a moment.

If only they had Aramis with them, they would have been able to make some actual progress by now. Athos frowned at that, his annoyance increasing. It was not their fault that Aramis had to be restricted to the garrison. Another bolt of pain shot through Athos’ skull and he reached for the bottle of wine on his desk. Pouring himself a cup, he drank it quickly as his thoughts turned once more to Aramis. If the man did not have to be minded like a toddler, they would have likely caught these blasted kidnappers by now. Athos shivered again and got up to throw another log on the fire. He didn’t know why it was suddenly so cold in his office. 

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When Porthos and d’Artagnan returned to the garrison they found Aramis hard at work with the more promising recruits. Michel had walked back with him earlier in the day and Aramis had spent the rest of the day evaluating the trainees. Sebastian had not been exaggerating when he said some of them barely knew which end the ball came out of. He planned to start working with that lot tomorrow. Right now he was working on honing the skills of the more promising among them. He had been quite pleased to see that Francois was included in that group and paid special attention to the young man’s abilities. 

As Aramis continued to train, Porthos and d’Artagnan came over to watch. It had been a long time since they had seen their brother so engrossed. There was something quite awe-inspiring in watching Aramis like this. He was truly in his element here and it was clear that they were not the only ones who thought so if the looks on the faces of the recruits were anything to go by.

“Alright, I think that’s enough for today,” Aramis said after demonstrating the proper way to line up a shot once again. 

“Thanks, Aramis,” Francois said, staying for a moment after the rest of the recruits dispersed. 

“You are quite welcome. You are very good with that. If you keep at it, I’ll be teaching you to use an Arquebus in no time.”

“I doubt I’ll be that good any time soon,” Francois said, blushing faintly and making his messy red hair seem even brighter.

“Do not sell yourself short, my friend. You possess a natural talent that many do not. You are patient and you have steady hands. That combination makes for as good a marksman as it does a medic.”

Francois was saved from trying to answer as Athos walked up. “I see Aramis is still trying to convince you to become his apprentice,” Athos smiled clapping the young man on the back. “As teachers go, you could do much worse.”

“Oh I know that,” Francois said at once. “I simply do not wish to waste his time. Surely there are others more suited than I.”

“I disagree,” Aramis said. “But do not let us push you into something you do not wish. As I said before, if you wish to learn I am more than happy to teach you all that I know. The choice, Francois, is yours.”

&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M

At home, Aramis went directly to the kitchen after hanging up his weapons. This was one of the many things he and Michel had discussed and he had vowed that he would accept this new turn his life with his brothers seemed to have taken without complaint. He was not the only one struggling with their return, Michel had reminded him gently. If he could ease his brothers’ loads in some small way by taking on this burden then he would do so and gladly. He only wished it did not sting his pride so very much but perhaps that was the lesson. He had always been a rather prideful man. Too prideful at times. One would think the ruination of his face would have been enough to remedy that. Not in the sight of God apparently. Whatever the reason, he would take the lesson to heart and continue to pray for His guidance in this as in all things.

Porthos felt a flush of shame as Aramis went to the kitchen without a word. He glanced toward the others and saw them looking after their lover, the same concern he felt mirrored in their eyes. He knew he had been a bit hard on Aramis of late. He didn’t even know why. It seemed like the nearer his lover drew the shorter his temper became until he ended up either lashing out or ignoring Aramis completely in order to keep from doing so. 

He wasn’t the only one, though. Even the Whelp had grown annoyed with Aramis today, grousing about how much easier a time of it they would have if he was with them. He hadn’t come right out and said it, but Porthos had heard the resentment in his voice. At least they had both managed to get their tempers in check by the time they returned to the garrison though they had come up empty handed yet again. 

“Perhaps we should have our conversation at the kitchen table this time,” Athos suggested. “I believe we could all benefit from Aramis’ insights into this.”

“Yeah,” Porthos agreed. “It’s not like we’re getting anywhere.”

While Athos and Porthos sat down at the table, d’Artagnan attempted to take Aramis’ place at the sink. “Let me do that tonight,” he said. 

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Aramis replied as he continued peeling vegetables. “Surely you are tired. You have been working all day.”

“As have you, brother,” Athos said, frowning darkly. 

“Yes, well,” Aramis shrugged. “That is beside the point.”

“How so?” Athos challenged.

“It simply is,” Aramis stated. He was not going to argue this. Not with Athos. Not with any of them. If Athos wanted to object he should have done that three nights ago. 

Athos wisely let the subject drop, sensing Aramis’ growing distress. The last thing he wanted was to cause any further distance when they were finally starting to come together once more. “Any new leads on the kidnappers?” Athos asked Porthos.

“No,” Porthos sighed defeatedly. “We managed to track them to the merchant district but we can’t get anyone to talk to us.”

“They don’t trust us,” d’Artagnan put it. 

“I doubt it is a lack of trust in you, per se,” Athos mused, “but rather a lack of trust that you will keep the source of your information confidential. If these people are as dangerous as they appear to be, they have good reason to be cautious.”

“Maybe,” Porthos allowed. “But we’re never going to catch them if nobody’s willing to talk.”

“Then perhaps it is time for Aramis to join you,” Athos suggested.

“I had planned to work with the new recruits tomorrow,” Aramis said over his shoulder as he continued working on dinner. 

Porthos felt a wave of irritation at the man’s seemingly careless words. The new recruits? That’s what he was worried about, the new recruits? “You can play with your new friends some other time,” Porthos growled angrily. “We’ve got actual work to do. Or don’t you give a damn about the people in the Court either?”

Aramis slammed down the spoon he had been using and spun around to glare at Porthos. “First of all, I was not speaking to you. I was merely letting the Captain know what I had planned for tomorrow so he could find someone else to work with the lads. Unlike some of us, _I_ would never question my Captain’s orders. The stew should be done shortly. Try not to let it burn.”

Snapping his mouth shut before he said something he would truly regret, Aramis left the three of them sitting at the table. He was angrier than he could ever remember being at Porthos and needed to calm himself. Striding into the sitting room, he picked up his Bible from the mantle over the fireplace. He opened it to the Psalms and began to read, letting the familiar litany calm and soothe him.

A short time later Aramis’ reading was interrupted by the sound of Athos softly clearing his voice. Aramis looked up at him warily as if unsure what to expect. In truth, he was somewhat unsure. Porthos’ continued antagonism had left him off kilter to the point where he found himself second guessing almost everything.

“Supper is ready,” Athos said when Aramis only looked at him, his eyes too wide in a way that reminded Athos of a panicked horse. “Will you come and eat with us?”

“Ah, I am not really hungry,” Aramis said, his grip tightening on the book in his hands unconsciously. “Go ahead without me.”

“He did not mean to give offense,” Athos said quietly as he took a step into the room.

Aramis sat back in the chair, putting as much distance between them as he could without actually standing. “I find that somewhat difficult to believe,” he replied. “But it is not something you need worry yourself about. We will work it out, I am sure.”

“Are you?”

“Of course,” Aramis said, smiling wanly. “Do not get in the middle of this, Athos. You have enough on your hands and…”

“And?”

“And you need to remain impartial. As Captain, you cannot take sides. Not in something of this nature. I realize that this is our personal lives but you cannot be seen to favor one above the other, even amongst us.”

“Very well,” Athos relented. He did not altogether agree with Aramis but he understood what he was trying to do and he was not completely wrong. To be seen to favor one Musketeer over another, even one of his brothers, would damage his credibility and with it, Treville’s. It would also draw attention to them and that was something they could not afford.

When they retired for the night, Aramis remained in the sitting room saying he would retire shortly. He continued to read, not so much as looking up when they left. It was not that he meant to snub any of his brothers, even Porthos. Rather, he did not think he could take seeing any further censure in their eyes this night. When he finally put his Bible back on the mantle and headed for bed, he took the second bedroom of his own volition. He told himself he simply did not want to wake anyone but he knew he was only lying to himself.

The next morning Athos was not surprised to find Aramis in the kitchen laying out breakfast. “You did not come to bed last night,” he said as he stood in the doorway, watching.

“I did,” Aramis said without looking up.

“Forgive me. You did not come to bed with us,” Athos corrected.

“You were asleep,” he shrugged. “I did not want to wake anyone.”

“Please don’t do this,” Athos said softly. He closed the short distance between them and took Aramis by the arm, forcing him to stop what he was doing and look at him. 

“I am only laying out breakfast,” Aramis chuckled, though it was forced.

“You are distancing yourself from us,” Athos countered. “You asked me not to get in between you and Porthos and I have abided by your wishes. But if it is going to drive you from our company…”

“I’m sorry, Athos,” Aramis said, looking away. 

“It’s alright, love. I understand, I do. Just please don’t turn away from me.”

At the garrison, Athos went up to his office while Aramis headed for the infirmary. He hoped Francois was his usual early self, wanting to have a word with him before his brothers arrived. He recalled Porthos’ comment from the night before all too clearly and did not think the man would take kindly to any delay on his part, especially one attributed to his new friends as he put it.

If Porthos was not so volatile, he would have suggested bringing the lad with them, knowing the experience would do him good. Francois’ fresh face and earnest blue eyes would go a long way toward getting people to open up. With the way Porthos was acting, however, he knew better. The last thing he wanted was to have Francois caught in the middle of something he did not understand. Besides, he had a feeling Porthos would likely take such a suggestion on his part entirely the wrong way at the moment. 

For once, luck was on Aramis’ side and Francois arrived shortly after he did. Aramis pulled the young man aside and let him know that he would be working with his brothers for the next few days and that he should train with the other recruits. 

“Take the next few days to think about what you want,” Aramis advised. “We can talk about it more once I’m back in the garrison again.”

By the time Porthos and d’Artagnan arrived, Aramis was waiting for them. He stood when they came through the gate, checking his weapons a final time to ensure he was ready. If he was completely honest with himself, he was a bit nervous. It wasn’t even so much the prospect of running into Pierre, it was just… everything. Since their return, he had been under veritable lock and key. Now he was suddenly set free and he found himself hesitating to take that first step.

“Someone’a eager,” Porthos grinned as he and d’Artagnan neared. He and the Whelp had talked on the way over, both of them realizing that Aramis had not come to bed with them last night. Porthos knew his harsh words were likely the cause and had promised d’Artagnan to try not to be jump to conclusions so hastily. Or at least keep a better hold on his tongue. 

“Didn’t want to keep you waiting,” Aramis said, tipping his head. 

Athos watched as his brothers headed through the front gate and out into the city. He knew Aramis was safe enough with Porthos and d’Artagnan but he had not missed his brother’s hesitancy. It would seem, in keeping him under such close watch he had inadvertently damaged Aramis’ self-confidence. Athos knew it wasn’t his brother’s ability to defend himself that he doubted so was left unsure as to what it was that gave him such pause. If he was able, he would speak to Aramis about it tonight but only if he could do so privately. Porthos was far too critical of Aramis as it was. Athos did not want to give him anything else to find fault with.

His brothers finally out of sight, Athos turned his attention back to the rest of the garrison. He frowned as he sat back down at his desk. He had been counting on Aramis to work with the recruits and was not sure who to replace him without offhand. He shivered as a cold draft wafted through the room, his eyes flitting to the hearth and back. He felt a flash of annoyance as his temple began to throb. Aramis should have made preparations for someone to take his place in training the recruits. He should not have left it to him to find a replacement.

As quickly as his annoyance with the man flared, it fled. Athos shook his head, berating himself silently. It was not Aramis’ job to worry about training the recruits. Nor was it his job to see to replacements. He had no right to grow annoyed with the man, especially when he was the one to assign him to accompany the others in the first place. Rising, he went to the hearth to light a fire hoping to chase the chill from the room. 

&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M

Aramis found his unease fading as they continued toward the merchant district. It felt good to walk beside his brothers again, shoulder to shoulder. For all that Athos had promised his confinement to the garrison was but temporary, there was a part of him that feared he would never be allowed to stand beside his brothers again. The relief he felt at being able to do so was enough to help him push past his reservations and take his place beside them once more.

As they neared the merchant area, Porthos found his temper flaring once more. Aramis was practically smiling as they walked down the street, as if this was a Sunday stroll rather than a search for kidnappers. Finally, his hold on his temper snapped and he leaned in close to Aramis, grabbing his arm.

“Have you no shame?” Porthos snarled angrily. “Or do you simply not care what is being done to these people?”

“What?” Aramis gasped, taken aback by Porthos anger as much as his words. “What are you talking about?”

“You walk about grinning like a fool. Does the plight of those in the Court mean so little to you?”

“You know that is not true,” Aramis said, his voice filled with hurt. “I am simply happy to be back by your side again. I… I did not mean it so seem…”

“Then act like a bloody Musketeer and not a foppish dandy for once,” Porthos spat giving him a shove as he moved away once more.

D’Artagnan glared hotly at Porthos when Aramis stumbled into him. He gripped his arm tightly, righting him before he could stumble again. “Try not to fall on your ass in the middle of the street,” he hissed, moving away from him and closer to Porthos.

Aramis stared at the younger man for a moment then blushed hotly and looked down. He felt mortification roll through him and clenched his fists helplessly. It was bad enough with Porthos judging every move he made in the harshest possible light. If d’Artagnan began to do the same he was not sure how he would endure it. Was this how the younger man had felt when he had been flaying him alive with his words back at the maison? Aramis prayed that was not the case, for if it was he had no idea how he had withstood it for so long.

Aramis had just started to recover his equilibrium when they reached the first of the merchants that Porthos and d’Artagnan suspected of having more information than they were sharing. Seeing Monsieur Alleman, Aramis forced the rest of his misgivings aside and pasted on his most charming smile. 

“Ah, Monsieur Aramis, it is good to see you again,” Alleman greeted warmly. “It has been so very long since you have graced my shop I had begun to think you had taken your business elsewhere.”

“Never, Monsieur. I assure you,” Aramis said, feigning indignation. “You have the finest oils in all of Frances. Who else would I come to but you? I have simply been away from the city for so long that this is the first chance I have had to come round.”

“Well I am certainly glad to see you. You know your friends came by the other day,” Alleman confided as he led Aramis into the back of his shop where he kept his more expensive wares. 

“Did they?” Aramis mused as he picked up bottles at random, sniffing them then setting them back down. Occasionally, he place one or two on the counter to enquire about further, noting the way Alleman’s eyes lit up as he did so.

“Oh yes. They were looked for some men,” he continued, eager to talk to Aramis. The man was one of his best customers and had always kept any information he gave him completely confidential. It was not that he did not trust his fellow Musketeers, but he simply did not know them and these men they were after, they were dangerous.

“Yes,” Aramis said non-commitally. “Do you happen to know anything of them? Of what they are doing or where they are going?”

“I…” Alleman began then glanced around his shop nervously. He could see the other Musketeers lurking by the door but they remained outside.

“We are alone here, friend,” Aramis reassured him. “And you know anything you tell me, I will take to my grave before divulging from whence it came.”

“I know that,” Alleman said, looking away then back again. “These men, though…. They are dangerous. They do not are about who they hurt, who they kill. They care only for the coin their actions earn them.”

“Monsieur Alleman, do you know where I can find these men?”

“No,” he shook his head. “But I know where you are mostly likely to encounter them. They frequent the shipping yards, where the ships store their wares before the merchants come for them. I have seen them there, moving about. Sometimes…”

“Sometimes?”

“Sometimes… they have not been alone,” Alleman admitted, shame forcing him to look away.

“They had someone with them. Someone who, perhaps, did not wish to be?” Aramis asked as gently as he could.

“Yes,” he nodded.

“It is alright, my friend,” Aramis said, gripping the man’s shoulder. “Had you tried to intercede you would likely have ended up in the river with your throat slid. Now tell me, when you saw them with this person, did yours see where they took them? Was it into one of the warehouses?”

“I am sorry, Aramis, I did not see,” he said regretfully. “But the person was struggling at least as much as she was able. They could not have taken her far, not without someone seeing them.”

“Thank you, my friend. You have been a great help. The information you have provided is invaluable.”

“I only wish I had done so sooner. Had you been with your friends, I would have told them. But I did not know if I could trust them as I do you…”

“Peace, Monsieur. I understand. Now, if you could have those oils I selected delivered to the garrison on my account, I will be by later in the week to pay you.”

“Oh of course, Monsieur Aramis.”

Aramis was smiling by the time he left the shop. He steadfastly ignored the twin scowls that greeted him and motioned for them to follow him. At least they had a lead now and a viable one at that. He tried to reach out to d’Artagnan, to ask what the man was so upset with him about, but the opportunity never presented itself.

It made sense that the information Aramis had gleaned led them back to the vicinity of the Court. If that was their hunting ground then that was where they would turn up with the most frequency. The only problem was that they still had no real idea who these men were or what they looked liked and scores of people came and went in that area every day.

Still, they would give it a look around, scout out the area for possible culprits as well as look for places they could watch unobserved from. It would do no good, after all, if the bastards caught sight of them. It was as they were getting ready to leave that d’Artagnan suddenly froze, his body going rigid. 

“What is it?” Aramis whispered, looking toward where the young man’s eyes were fixed.

“ _Him_ ,” D’Artagnan snarled, jerking his chin toward a man just down the street.

“Him who, Whelp?” Porthos asked.

“Gaspar.” At his brothers’ confused silence he explained. “He was… was one of Lucinda’s brothers.”

“Oh, d’Artagnan,” Aramis said softly. He rested his hand on the younger man’s shoulder and squeezed. He wanted so badly to pull him into his arms and hold him but knew he could not, not here. 

D’Artagnan heard the pity in Aramis’ voice and something inside of him snapped making him jerk away from the man’s touch. Turning back, he glowered at him. How dare this man pity him. How dare he offer condolences and platitudes as if he had any idea of the things he had been through, the trauma he had faced when he was little more than a boy. 

“D’Artagnan… I did not mean…”

“Of course not,” d’Artagnan chuckled snidely as he moved closer to Porthos’ side. “That’s the problem. You never mean it, Aramis. You never mean any of it.”

“C’mon, Whelp,” Porthos said, ruffling his hair affectionately. “It’ll be okay. Let’s just get back to the garrison and let Athos know what we found out.”

Aramis stood where he was, as if rooted to the ground. D’Artagnan’s words had been like knives to his soul, leaving him cut open and bleeding. He had only meant to offer comfort. He had only meant to let him know that he was there for him in any way d’Artagnan should need him to be. It would appear, however, that d’Artagnan did not need anything from him. Not anymore. 

When they walked back into the garrison, it was clear to the rest of the men that something was off with Aramis. It was also equally clear that either the pair with him was the cause of it or they were unaware of it. Either way, it didn’t set easy with the men. 

As the three made their way toward the Captain’s office, Francois called out from the infirmary doorway. “Aramis? Do you have a minute?”

Every man in the yard could see Porthos and d’Artagnan bristle and that only confused them more. They knew Aramis had been working with the lad quite extensively before being sent back out. It was only to be expected that he would have questions.

“Best go see what your boy wants,” Porthos sneered loudly as he and d’Artagnan continued up the stairs to Athos’ office. 

Aramis made no reply. Instead, he turned and headed back toward the infirmary. He smiled wanly at the uneasy look on Francois’ face. “You need not look so worried,” he said quietly as he ushered them back inside so they might have some privacy to speak more freely.

Francois sat down at the table and poured them both a mug of wine. Now that Aramis was here, he was unsure what he wanted to say. He had only wanted to ask how his day had gone, if they had made any headway. He was surprised to find he had missed his new friend. But when he had seen the dejected look on his face coupled with the way his so-called brothers were acting, he had to say something.

“Speak your mind, my friend,” Aramis said, sensing his hesitancy. “And know that nothing you say here will give me cause to take offense.”

“Your friends do not treat you well,” Francois said then clamped his mouth shut. He had not meant to be so blunt but now that the words were out he was glad for it.

“This investigation is a difficult one,” Aramis defended. “Tempers, they can run hot at times. All is well. You need not worry for me.”

“You are my friend.”

“As you are mine.”

“I just…”

“Just?”

“I just do not want you to think you have no… no options. It is well known that the four of you are brothers in all but blood and that you share a domicile not far from here.”

“What is your point, Francois?”

“My point… My point is that if you do not wish to go with them you do not have to. If there is discord among you and you wish some distance, well, it is not much but my father’s home is not far from here. He would gladly provide rooms for you if you should ever have need of them.”

“I… I do not know what to say,” Aramis managed, stunned by the young man’s offer. “I thank you, truly I do. While I do not see myself as ever needing such a thing, it is reassuring to know one has options as you put it.”

The walk home was a tense one, as they were wont to be of late. Aramis had not missed the scowl Porthos had cast his way when he had spied him leaving the infirmary with Francois. Aramis had done his best to pretend he had not noticed, instead planning out their evening meal as they walked. 

“Your friend seemed awful glad to see you,” Porthos said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. 

“Francois?” Aramis replied casually, refusing to be baited. “He merely had a question about one of the poultices I had been instructing him on. I believe you were right, Athos. He shall make a fine medic, if he’s of a mind.”

“Hm, yes. He seems steady enough for it. He is young, though. It can be hard to lure the younger one from the call of adventure as it were.”

“I do not think that is the issue here,” Aramis said as he went about preparing a quick meal. He was quite tired himself. The long day on patrol combined with Porthos’ and now d’Artagnan’s unexpected outbursts had left him on edge all day. At the moment, he wanted nothing more than a hot meal and a soft bed. The rest could sort itself out come morning.

“No?” Athos pressed when Aramis offered no more insight.

“It isn’t his desire for adventure that holds him back. Rather, it is his fear of failing those he suddenly finds under his care,” Aramis explained. “He has not learned to have faith in himself yet. It will come in time but he will need someone there to help foster that along.”

“I can think of no better mentor than you, brother,” Athos said, trying to undo some of the damage they had inadvertently done to Aramis’ self-esteem of late.

“Bah!” Porthos snorted. “We got more important things to worry about than coddling some freckle-faced lad with a crush. We need to find the men responsible for this before more people turn up missing. We got a lead today. A good one. That’s what we need to be talking about. Not some wet behind the ears boy who doesn’t even know which end of a sword to hold.”

“My apologies, _brother_ ,” Aramis snapped as he slammed down the pot he had been filling and spun around. “I did not realize the entire world revolved only around you and your concerns. Shall I refrain from speaking on any topic but that one or would you rather I simply shut my mouth altogether?”

“Alright, that’s enough!” d’Artagnan barked as he pushed bodily between the two men. He saw Porthos tense and shook his head. “Go take a walk. Athos, you might want to go with him.”

Aramis did not relax until the door slammed shut behind Porthos and Athos. He had not meant to lose his temper but Porthos had no right to speak so ill of Francois. The boy had done nothing to earn his ire. He turned toward d’Artagnan, wanting to thank him for stopping things from getting out of hand but the look of cold fury on the younger man’s face froze him.

Before he could so much as open his mouth, d’Artagnan’s hand shot out and gripped Aramis by the collar. Sneering, he used his grip on it to yank him close, holding him there tightly. He could see the wild spark of fear in his eyes and it only egged him on. 

When Aramis made as if to speak again, d’Artagnan twisted the collar, tightening his grip, and leaned close to his ear. “Shut. Your. Mouth,” he snarled. “If I ever hear you speak to Porthos that way again, _Little One_ , you will regret it. Am I clear?”

D’Artagnan released his collar and waited for his reply. He could see the shock on his boy’s face and it made lust coil low in his belly. That would be for later, though. Right now, there was a lesson to be learned.

“Well?” D’Artagnan prompted when Aramis failed to reply.

“Yes,” Aramis rasped weakly taking a step back. 

“Yes, what?” d’Artagnan pressed.

Aramis’ eyes shot to the man’s face and he nearly flinched. He had never seen such cruelty reflected in d’Artagnan’s eyes before. He felt the sting of tears but he fought them back, refusing to give them yet more ammunition to use against him. He opened his mouth to reply, knowing that if he did not it would only anger the other man more but he could not seem to get the words out. 

When d’Artagnan took a step toward him, his hand going to his belt, Aramis finally found his voice again. “Yes, Master,” he whispered looking down as he felt something inside of him break.

D’Artagnan waited until Aramis finally forced himself to look up again. He could see the man’s hands shaking slightly as he went back to work on preparing their dinner. “Aramis?” he called softly.

“Yes, Master?” Aramis replied, his voice still shaking a bit as he tried to concentrate on the task at hand.

“When we are in this house, you will address me as Master at all times. Is that understood?”

“Master?” Aramis whispered unsure what else to say. He did not want this but to deny him, he did not think he was able.

“Do you belong to me or not?” d’Artagnan demanded hotly.

“You know I do,” Aramis replied, his face burning in shame at the admission of his weakness.

“Then start acting like it or I will find someone who will.”

&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M

La Oscuridad swirled with delight within its cage. It would have danced had it an actual body to do. It had always been a patient being. Millennia had taught it that if little else. So patiently it had planted its seeds in each of them and patiently it had watched them come to glorious fruition.

It had started with the dark one again. That he had been touched before made him the easiest for it to slip inside of. After that, it was pathetically simple. Circumstance had bred anger in this one. And anger was always the easiest to manipulate, easier even than fear. For anger clouded the mind, chasing away all judgement until all that was left was rage, raw and destructive.

It had come close to pushing too far with the dark one, though. The Seminarian might be floundering but he was no fool. Even with it clouding his judgement, if he sensed it in any way, all would be lost. Soon it would to be strong enough that it would not matter but that time was not now so it had reluctantly pulled back. Not all the way, but enough.

The boy had been next. The one he called Master. What these pitiful humans failed to understand was that while it took power to spread its influence, proximity lessened that a great deal. Keeping the boy with the dark one had been all but offering him up on a plate. 

It had needed to be even more cautious here. The dark one was volatile by nature. The others had grown to expect and accept it. The boy, while also somewhat volatile, it was rarely directed at his brothers. In the end, it had simply bided its time with him, waiting for the perfect moment to strike and the Seminarian had given him just that.

The pain the man had felt when the boy threatened him had been like ambrosia, but when he had forced him to bend his neck and call him Master, the dark ecstasy had been nearly overwhelming. Even now, the Seminarian had no idea what to do. He felt lost in a way he had not since a time called Savoy. It had been enjoying his pain so much. It took only the slightest influence to push his confusion into fear, clouding his mind and causing him to doubt himself all the more.

Even their leader was not immune, though it was taking longer to spread its influence to him. He spent long hours locked away in his office, never venturing near its prison. That coupled with the relative little time he spent with the others made it more difficult to plant its seed deep enough to take root and grow. It had finally done so, though. Now all it had to do was be patient a little while longer.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: This part contains a brief dub/non-con scene. It's not overly graphic but you have been warned.

Athos was not surprised to find Aramis hard at work in the kitchen the next morning. The man had not come to bed again the night before, at least not with them and it was starting to worry him. He knew something had occurred between Aramis and d’Artagnan while he and Porthos were out. That much was clear long before the first quiet “yes, Master” was heard.

Athos had been stunned to hear Aramis refer to d’Artagnan in such a way but had done his best to mask it. Aramis was having a hard enough time dealing with everything without feeling as though he had to answer to Athos as well.

“You did not join us again last night,” Athos said as he moved up beside the man.

“Ah, n-no,” Aramis stammered. From the way Athos spoke, it seemed as though he was unaware that his Master had ordered him to await him in the other room. He had actually fallen asleep on his knees as he waited for the man. When he awoke that morning, he realized that d’Artagnan had never come for him, that his Master had left him waiting there all night, forgotten. _Discarded._

“Aramis?”

“Sorry,” Aramis said, ducking his head to keep from meeting Athos’ eyes. “I must have fallen asleep in the other room. Forgive me?”

“Always,” Athos told him. “You do know, if you wish to talk about anything, that I will listen. I will listen to whatever it is you wish to say and I will not hold it against anyone if you do not wish me to.”

“I do know that,” Aramis said, kissing him softly. “And I will keep it in mind should the need arise. Now, come. Let us be on our way. It would not do for the Captain to be late.”

Aramis made sure he was ready and waiting by the time Porthos and d’Artagnan arrived. He had even gone so far as to caution Francois to avoid the pair of them if he could, telling him only that their investigation was not going as well as hoped and tempers were running a bit hot because of it. 

They reported to Athos briefly, giving him a general idea of where they planned to be in case he had need of them. After that, they headed back toward the Court. It was not the Court itself they were headed for but an area very close to it. Aramis’ friend had told of seeing the men they were looking for in that area more than once. 

The people there were no more trustful of Musketeers than most of those living in and around the Court. Porthos, at least, was known to some of them and was able to get them to talk to him. As Aramis listened, he felt a tug on his sleeve and looked down to see a young girl of no more than six or seven. 

Smiling softly, he knelt down next to her and introduced himself. She told him her name was Lily and that she and her mother came here often to buy bread. When Aramis asked if she had seen the men they were looking for, she nodded and tried to draw back.

“It’s alright, sweetheart,” Aramis whispered. “They are not here and I would not let them harm you if they were. How about if I take you home? I’m sure your mother is probably worried about you by now.”

“Okay,” Lily smiled brightly. “The bad men aren’t here now anyway. They only come on the nights when the moon is gone.”

“I see,” Aramis said, rising and taking her hand. He was just about to walk her home when d’Artagnan’s voice called out stopping him.

“And just where do you think you’re going, Little One?” D’Artagnan asked in his sweetest voice making those around them laugh thinking he was referring to the child.

“Aw leave the poor thing be,” Porthos chuckled. 

Aramis froze at d’Artagnan’s… his Master’s… words. Since the day his Master had placed it upon his neck, his collar had only ever made Aramis feel complete. Never had it felt so akin to a noose until this very moment. 

Forcing himself to be calm, he schooled his features before turning to the other two. “I was just about to walk young Lily home. By your leave?”

“Whatever,” d’Artagnan said dismissively. “Just hurry back. We’ve got work to do.”

&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M

A tentative knock had Athos looking up from the map that was spread out over his desk with a frown. Musketeers were not known for being tentative, not unless they had done something wrong. If that was the case, Athos doubted if the man in question would be coming forward on his own. Feeling a headache coming on, he shivered as he pushed the map and various other paperwork aside.

“Come,” he called out loudly. A moment later he was surprised when Francois entered his office, closing the door behind him.

“Captain, do you have a moment?” Francois asked nervously.

“Is something wrong?” Athos asked, growing concerned. While Francois was not the most boisterous of recruits, the lad was not usually this subdued.

“I… I’m not sure, Sir.”

“Then perhaps you’d best explain,” Athos said as patiently as he could. His temple throbbed painfully and he cast a surreptitious glance toward the hearth but the fire still burned. 

“It’s Aramis, Sir.”

“Aramis? What about him?”

Francois hesitated then. He had heard the stories. He knew how close these men were. And yet, that was not how they were acting, not toward Aramis. “Have you not seen how they have been treating him?” Francois finally asked.

“Who?”

“Porthos mostly,” Francois said hesitantly, “but even d’Aratganan has begun to…”

“You would be wise to mind your tongue, boy,” Athos said angrily. 

“I’m sorry, Captain. I do not mean any disrespect, but…”

“But nothing!” Athos snapped as he shot to his feet. “You know nothing of Aramis and even less of these men. You would be wise to spend your time attempting to learn from them rather than speaking ill of them when they are not even here to defend themselves.”

“My apologies, Captain,” Francois said, quickly realizing that the man was not willing to listen to him. “I misspoke. Please forgive me for intruding on your day.”

The door had no more than closed behind Francois before Athos felt his head begin to pound. Just who did that boy think he was to come in here and question his brothers like that? Just what sort of nonsense had Aramis been filling his fool head with? 

Athos saw now that trying to allow Aramis to take on an apprentice unsupervised was a mistake. On top of having no real medic at the garrison, he was going to be forced to send the closest thing they had to one away. He would not permanently reassign Francois but he needed to get him out from under Aramis’ influence until the boy saw reason again. 

Pouring himself a mug of wine, Athos went back over the upcoming assignments. Three of his men were to escort a group of merchants to a nearby town. It would take at least two days and probably closer to four. Athos would speak with the men and let them know that Francois was to go with them. It would do the boy good to see what being a Musketeer actually amounted to. That problem solved, Athos threw another log in the hearth and returned to work.

&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M

Aramis returned to the others after taking Lily home as quickly as he could without actually running. He felt mortified all the way to his very soul. He was on the cusp of panicking and it was taking everything he had to hold himself together. He only wished he knew what he had done to anger them both so. 

“Get your new girlfriend squared away?” Porthos asked when Aramis rejoined them.

“Ah, yes,” Aramis said, faking a smile. “Safely back with her mother.”

“Is that what took so long?” D’Artagnan asked, his voice low and menacing as he gripped Aramis’ arm hard.

“N-n-no,” Aramis stammered. “She… she was showing me where she thought she saw the men we’re looking for.”

“Really?” Porthos snorted derisively. “Best show us then.”

“Yes, alright,” Aramis said, trying to regain his equilibrium. He felt constantly off balance, as if he was walking a very narrow plank and a single wrong move would send him plummeting to his doom. Taking a deep breath, he led them toward the street where Lily said she had seen them. He could feel their eyes on the back of him, as if judging his every move and he hated to admit that it unnerved him. 

“There!” D’Artagnan hissed nearly making Aramis jump. 

He turned to see what he was referring to and caught a glimpse of the man from earlier. _Gaspar_. That’s what d’Artagnan said his name was. He and another man had disappeared down an alleyway and Aramis felt his blood boil. This bastard was one of the men who had hurt their Whelp all those years ago. He might very well be one of the men they were looking for now. Whether he was or not, Aramis had no intention of simply letting him slip away.

“Come on,” Aramis growled, his hand going to his sword. While he would have preferred his pistols, the streets were simply too crowded for that. Besides, the last thing they wanted was to bring the Red Guard running and guns going off in the streets would be certain to.

They hurried after the pair, entering the mouth of the alley just as they rounded the corner. They ran then, not wanting to lose them in the dark labyrinth that was Paris’ alleys and side streets. For a moment, it looked as though they had lost them then Aramis’ keen eyes spied a hint of color in the gloom and they were moving again. 

They were half-way down the alley before they realized it was a dead end. Porthos and d’Artagnan looked at Aramis, annoyance written on their faces. Aramis shook his head, as confused as they as to where the men could have disappeared to. He started to speak when a low, rumbling growl made him freeze. 

“Wha-?” D’Artagnan began.

“Quiet,” Aramis hissed under his breath, his eyes scanning the darkness for any sign of movement. “Back out. Back into the street, into the light.” He could make out eyes glowing faintly in the darkness. Pair after pair, big and small alike. 

“We’re surrounded,” Porthos whispered as he drew his dagger and moved closer to d’Artagnan. 

“What are they?” D’Artagnan asked, moving in as well so the three were back to back.

“Dogs,” Aramis whispered, his eyes locked on the enemies slowly creeping closer. 

“Rats, too,” Porthos added, shaking his head. He could see the unnatural light their eyes glowed with and knew they were in trouble. 

“What the fuck did you lead us into?” D’Artagnan demanded hotly.

“Not now,” Porthos snapped. “We need to get out of this alley. If they swarm us…”

&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M

Porthos was fuming by the time they finally made it back to the garrison. They ended up having to half drag Aramis between them as the man could barely seem to keep his feet under him. He had at least had the decency to check him and the Whelp for any injuries before becoming utterly useless once more. It was damn near the only reason he hadn’t simply dumped him on his ass and let him to find his own way back. He was just lucky the Whelp hadn’t taken more than a few shallow bites and scratches from those things. If the boy had been hurt because of another of Aramis’ screw ups….

At the foot of the stairs leading up to the Captain’s office, d’Artagnan stopped and shoved Aramis toward the infirmary. “Get yourself cleaned up,” he ordered then followed Porthos up. They didn’t even bother to knock this time, walking in and slamming the door closed behind them.

Athos started when the pair stormed into his office. He opened his mouth to berate them for simply barging in when he got a good look at them. Shaking his head, he pulled out a bottle of wine and filled two cups. “Drink,” he ordered handing one to each of them.

He waited for them to do as he had ordered, eying them carefully as they did so. Once the wine was finished, he motioned for them to sit then joined them. “Alright, first things first. Are either of you hurt?”

“No,” Porthos shook his head. “Aramis checked us both over. Just a few minor bites and scratches mostly.”

“And where is Aramis?”

“I sent him to the infirmary,” D’Artagnan said, his voice still clipped and angry regardless of his attempts to calm himself. “Figured his boy could check him over.”

Deciding to let that pass for now, Athos continued. “So what happened?”

“Aramis led us into a fucking ambush,” d’Artagnan spat.

“Come again?”

“We were following up a lead near the Court. We caught sight of one of the men we think we’re looking for,” Porthos began.

“Gaspar,” d’Artagnan added through gritted teeth.

“Who is Gaspar?”

“I will explain about him but… later,” d’Artagnan said, flushing in shame at the thought of having to speak of this to Athos.

“Alright. Continue.”

“Aramis was in the lead, chasing them. The next thing we know, he’s run us into a dead end. That’s when we got ambushed,” Porthos concluded.

“By these men?” Athos frowned. His brothers did not look like they had been in any sort of fight, bedraggled though they appeared.

“By dogs,” Porthos replied. “And rats. They were all around us. I don’t know how we made it out of there.”

“And this is Aramis’ fault how exactly?”

“He was in the lead,” Porthos said, his anger rising. “How fucking hard is it to chase two men down a couple of alleys. Instead of getting our hands on them, we nearly get eaten by feral dogs.”

“I am sure he did not mean for things to end as they did,” Athos said, trying to placate Porthos. He could understand his anger. His brother did look a bit… chewed on. Both of them did. He could only imagine what it must have been like for them.

“Whether he meant it or not, his bloody incompetence cost us out there today. He’s damn lucky nobody got hurt.”

Athos studied the two men before him. He could see how angry they still were. He was not altogether sure the fault was Aramis’ but he had not been there. That thought gave him pause. He had not been there. He had only the evidence before his eyes and the testimony of the men before him. 

Suddenly, the weight of command felt a great deal heavier as Athos realized what he had to do. If it were any other pair of Musketeers voicing such a compliant he would be calling the offender before him to answer for his actions. That the offender in question was Aramis could not be allowed to have any bearing on that.

“Do you wish to lodge a formal complaint?” Athos asked, giving his brothers one last out, though he doubted it Porthos would take it.

“Yes,” d’Artagnan said, speaking up and surprising both men. “He was no better than an untrained recruit. If he cannot do his job then he has no business wearing that pauldron.”

“Very well,” Athos said. “I shall take the matter up with him tomorrow. I ask that you leave it be until then and trust that I shall see to it.”

“Of course,” they both replied, trusting in Athos. No matter how distasteful he might find something, he would not shy away from his duty. 

“Alright,” Athos sighed. “It has been an exceedingly long day. Let us collect Aramis and be on our way home. And Porthos, if you would not mind, I would like to have some time with d’Artagnan tonight.”

“‘Course,” Porthos said, grinning wolfishly.

“It’s nothing like that,” Athos chided. At d’Artagnan’s frown he shook his head. “I beg your pardon. It isn’t too much like that.”

“I get it, brother,” Porthos said. “Your boy got hurt today. You just want to spend a little time making sure he’s okay.”

They found Aramis waiting for them just outside the infirmary. Francois had been livid when he had seen all the bites and scratches covering Aramis’ legs. Some of them had been alarmingly deep but Aramis had insisted they did not require stitches. Bites and scratches covered his arms as well but they were much more shallow than the ones on his legs. After helping dress his wounds, Francois had suggested Aramis spend the night at his father’s house. Aramis had thanked the lad but politely refused. He did not want to drag Francois into this any further than he already was.

Once back at home, Aramis went to work in the kitchen while Athos and d’Artagnan took to the sitting room. Porthos stayed in the kitchen, wanting to give the pair a bit of privacy. He could understand how Athos felt. Seeing the boy hurt like that had hit him hard, too.

“Is something wrong?” Aramis asked when he noticed Porthos sitting at the kitchen table.

“Nah. Just wanted to give ‘em some privacy is all. Scared Athos a bit today seeing him come back all cut up like that.”

Even with three of them sporting a few more injuries than normal of late, dinner was a much more companionable affair than Aramis had grown used to. He had half expected his brothers to still be angry with him for one thing or another and the camaraderie was a welcome change. Having been enjoying a peaceful dinner for once, Aramis managed to forget about his own injuries, at least. until he began to clear the table that was. Forgotten pain made his body seize up and he hissed as he grabbed for the table.

“Whoa!” Porthos said, moving to grab his brother before he could fall and hurt himself further.

“My apologies,” Aramis gasped. “I must have stiffened up while we were sitting. I’ll be fine in a moment.”

“I think this one needs to get some rest,” Porthos said decisively. “You mind me taking him on to bed, Whelp?”

“No, go ahead,” d’Artagnan replied. “We can clear the table and join you shortly.”

“Actually,” Athos countered a bit hesitantly. “I would have this night with you, if you’ve a mind.”

“I would like that very much,” d’Artagnan replied.

“Guess it’s just you and me tonight then,” Porthos said to Aramis, still holding him firmly by the arm. “You gonna be okay without your Master tonight? I know you’re hurting still.”

“I shall be fine and I would never turn down time spent in your company,” Aramis replied carefully. For the first time in days Porthos was being almost nice to him and he didn’t want to do anything to change that. 

It was deep in the night when Porthos began to stir, unsure what had awoken him at first. He had been dreaming, something to do with Aramis and the maison but he could not remember what. He was tired, his eyes gritty from too little sleep. Long days spent tracking these blasted kidnappers coupled with the attack in the alley had left him spent. Huffing in annoyance, he closed his eyes to go back to sleep when he felt a touch along his cock. The surprise alone was enough to take him from the cusp of sleep to wide awake in an instant. Now that he was awake, he could feel Aramis pressed up against him from behind and knew that had to be the source of the unexpected touch. 

Porthos could not believe the man had actually woken him from a sound sleep because he was horny. Did the slut not get enough from the three of them as it was that he had to wake him up all but begging for more? By rights, he should throw him down on his belly and fuck him until he bled. Athos would likely have his hide if he did that, though. 

When Porthos felt a hand along his cock again, the thin control on his temper snapped. Flipping over onto his back, Porthos grabbed Aramis by his wrist and glared at the man. “You want to play? Fine,” he snarled, sitting up and yanking Aramis up with him.

Before Aramis could utter a protest Porthos swung his legs off the side of the bed and jerked the other man across his lap. Aramis, still more asleep than awake, actually moaned when he realized the position Porthos had put him in, arching his back and pushing his ass up enticingly. When Porthos grabbed his hands and pinned his arms behind his back, he didn’t fight it, reveling in the feel of his lover’s hands upon his body.

“Such a greedy little slut,” Porthos sneered as he stared down at Aramis, his dark eyes cold and hard. “Can’t even sleep through the night without you waking me up to get at my cock.”

“But it’s such a nice cock,” Aramis joked playfully as Porthos roughly yanked down his smalls unmindful of the numerous wounds covering his thighs. 

Still not fully awake, Aramis didn’t put up any fight. His lover was being much more forceful with him than he normally was when they played like this and it made Aramis’ stomach knot in a good way for once, the delicious anticipation spreading through him like warm honey. There was a reason that Porthos was the only one since them that he had sought this for pleasure from. He trusted Porthos implicitly, even now with how strained things had been of late, he still trusted his lover completely. He knew Porthos would never hurt him, no matter how much he might enjoy play acting.

Porthos shivered as he felt his anger turn to rage and tightened his grip on Aramis’ wrists making the man moan. “Will you still think it’s nice when it’s splitting you in two, whore?”

“Porthos…” Aramis gasped.

“Maybe I should shove it down your throat instead,” Porthos said, his voice low and somehow… dark. “No reason I should have to do all the work and it might actually shut that trap of yours up for a few minutes.”

Aramis blanched at his lover’s words, taken aback. He had thought Porthos only speaking in jest, only teasing him as he had so often done in the past. This, however, this did not sound like teasing. 

“Porthos… Are you alright?” Aramis asked, unsure what to say.

“Me? Oh I’m fine,” Porthos replied then chuckled mirthlessly. “You on the other hand…”

“Porthos, let me up,” Aramis said, every instinct inside of him screaming at him to get up, to get away, that something was wrong.

“Yeah, I don’t think so. You woke me from a sound sleep because you wanted my cock. I’ll give it to you. But you gotta take your punishment for waking me up first.”

“No,” Aramis said, shaking his head and tugging ineffectually at his trapped wrists. “I didn’t wake you. I don’t want this. Let me up. Porthos, damn it, let me go.”

“No,” Porthos said again, tightening his grip around Aramis’ wrists to the point where he knew they would be bruised come morning. “Keep fighting me, whore, and I’ll take my belt to you. You want that? Huh? Do you?”

“Porthos, please,” Aramis pled. “Don’t do this. Please. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“You’re sorry, huh? Not nearly as sorry as you’re going to be. And if your yelling brings anyone else in here, I’ll make sure your new boy’s sorry, too. Understand?”

“Don’t hurt him,” Aramis whispered, tears stinging his eyes. He had known for days now that something was _off_ with Porthos and yet he had done nothing. Now he was paying the price for refusing to see what was right in front of his face. He would not, however, allow anyone else to pay that price with him. 

“Then you keep your mouth shut, slut, unless it’s sucking my cock,” Porthos spat. He took a moment to let his eyes roam over the man laying captive across his lap. He contemplated reaching for one of his belts anyway but didn’t. He wanted to feel the man’s flesh heating under his hand. Besides, belt marks took too long to fade. He didn’t want to chance Athos catching sight of them. 

Aramis braced himself as best he could as he waited for the beating to begin. He clamped his mouth firmly closed, not daring to chance being overheard by Athos or d’Artagnan. He held no doubt that Porthos would carry out his threat and Aramis simply could not let that happen. He tried to focus his thoughts on Athos, on anything to keep his mind from what was about to happen. It was entirely too close to the humiliating things that they had done to him and Aramis feared getting lost in those nightmares once more.

Porthos brought his arm back and swung down hard and fast. The resultant crack was so loud in the otherwise quiet room that both men froze. A second later, Aramis felt the pain blossom under Porthos’ hand and radiate outward and had to clench his jaw to keep from moaning aloud. 

Porthos left his hand there for a moment, enjoying the feel of sudden heat as it spread out from beneath it. By the time he was finished, the slut’s ass would be so red it would be glowing. With a smile that more closely resembled a sneer, Porthos drew back his arm and began beating the other man in earnest.

“I don’t feel your cock, slut,” Porthos taunted as he continued to beat him. “What’s wrong? You need me to hit you harder? Is that it? Am I not beating your ass hard enough to get you off?”

Aramis didn’t reply to the taunts and jibes. He kept his jaw locked shut, determined to keep any sound from escaping. By the time he finally stopped, Porthos’ hand was nearly numb and his entire arm ached. Aramis’ backside was a deep, dark crimson, the bonier places already starting to purple and bruise. In a few hours, sitting would be nothing short of torture for the man. 

Aramis had a minute to simply breathe and try to get himself back under control before Porthos shoved him roughly off his lap and onto the floor causing him to hiss in pain. Porthos fisted one hand in the man’s hair and unlaced his smalls with the other. Pulling his hard cock out, he held it by the base and tugged Aramis forward by the hair until he could press the damp head against the man’s closed lips.

“Suck it, whore,” Porthos ordered, a cold darkness filling him with spite.

Aramis cast his eyes up at his lover looking for some sign of the man he loved. The harsh glint in Porthos’ eyes told him otherwise and he quickly looked away. When he felt the hand in his hair tighten, he knew he had little choice but to obey. Not unless he wanted to get the others involved.

Eyes closed, Aramis opened his mouth. He had no sooner parted his lips then Porthos was thrusting forward hard, shoving his cock into Aramis’ mouth until he gagged. Porthos brought his other hand around to Aramis’ head, gripping the man’s hair and using it to guide his movements. Aramis tried to pull back but Porthos held him easily as he forced more and more of his cock down Aramis’ struggling throat.

“Take it,” Porthos growled as he tipped Aramis’ head back and held it there. It gave him an almost straight path down his throat and Porthos began to fuck him then, using his grip on Aramis’ hair to move his head up and down on his cock. He could feel Aramis choking every time he pulled his head down and it only made him grin wider. He could feel his release approaching and simply held his head in place and started rutting him. 

A few moments later, though to Aramis it felt like hours as he choked on Porthos’ cock, Porthos slammed all the way down his throat and began to spend. He held Aramis flush against him, his face pressed into his groin as Porthos’ cock pulsed in his throat, filling his belly with his seed. When he was finally spent, Porthos let his cock slide free then shoved Aramis back to land on his bruised backside. He righted his smalls then looked down at the man still lying half splayed on the floor. Shaking his head in exasperation, Porthos reached down and grabbed Aramis by the air, snarling when the man tried to shrink from him. He jerked him up and shoved him onto the bed toward the wall.

“Now lay your ass down and get some sleep. And don’t wake me again.”

Aramis lay where Porthos had slung him, too afraid to move. He did not want to take a chance on reawakening the man’s ire. He dearly wished Porthos would have simply gotten into bed and left him where he lay on the floor. He would have been free to slink away to some dark corner to lick his wounds in private then. But no, Porthos had refused to grant him even that much dignity. 

As he lay there, thinking, Aramis was not sure what hurt more - his body or his heart. Between his earlier injuries, some of which had begun to bleed again, his badly bruised ass and his ravaged throat, his body was a bit of a mess and he was not at all sure how he was going to hide that fact from the others come morning. His heart, however, felt as though it had been rent in two. Of all the people to ever treat him in such a manner, that it would be Porthos… 

A sliver of moonlight through the window reflected off his ring, drawing his attention. He stared at it for long minutes thinking of all it represented. It was the outward sign of their commitment to each other. Now Aramis found himself asking what, truly, did it mean? What was their commitment? What had they really pledged to one another? And how many of those promises, inherent and otherwise, now lay in ruin?

&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M

La Oscuridad drank down the Seminarian’s pain like the richest of wines. Its continued influence had pushed the dark one closer and closer to the edge. All it had taken was a single push and the rage inside of him had quickly turned to violence. 

It had grown strong enough now to physically influence those under its thrall to a small degree. That small degree was all it had needed, though. The dark one had attributed his interrupted sleep to the Seminarian. Now, as dear Aramis lay beaten and bruised, too afraid to even move for fear of incurring more of his lover’s wrath, the man questioned the very bond between them. 

Satisfied with the misery it had wreaked, it carefully pulled back. Tomorrow was a new day, after all.

&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M

Athos was surprised to find the kitchen empty when he and d’Artagnan came down the next morning. Shaking his head at himself, he realized he shouldn’t have been. Athos could not actually recall the last time Porthos and Aramis had managed some time simply for the two of them. It was no wonder his brother had slept in for once.

“Looks like I get to cook again,” d’Artagnan grinned as he started preparing a quick meal for the lot of them. He knew they had risen later than normal and it would reflect quite poorly on Athos were he to be late to the garrison.

Sitting at the table and watching his young lover work, Athos remembered the events of the prior day. “Tell me of this Gaspar,” he said, hoping to ease into the conversation.

d’Artagnan sucked in a breath but did not turn around. “We think he is one of the men behind what’s happening at the Court,” he said, doing his best to appear unaffected.

“Yes, but who is he?” Athos pressed. “Who is he to you?”

D’Artagnan continued working on their meal until he could turn away from it without fear of ruining it. Finally, he came and sat down beside Athos taking the man’s hand for some much needed support. “Gaspar… I knew him in Gascony. He is one of Lucinda’s brothers.”

“Lucinda? She is the one…”

“Yes,” d’Artagnan replied quickly, having no wish to hear Athos speak the words aloud. 

“I can understand now why Aramis might have acted so rashly,” Athos offered. He was curious to see how his words would be taken. Porthos and d’Artagnan had been furious with their brother yesterday. Porthos had seemed to calm as the night progressed. He hoped time and rest had cooled their ire enough for them to change their minds about their complaint against Aramis.

“And if it was me?” D’Artagnan challenged hotly. “Would you be so understanding then?”

“Stop that,” Athos said softly. “First of all, you know I would. But you must not forget, Aramis is as protective of you as you are of him. For him to catch sight of one of your tormentors…”

“Would be no different than when I caught sight of Pierre,” d’Artagnan admitted. “I get that, Athos, I do. But Porthos was hurt. Not badly, but still. What if someone else had been in that alley? It was a miracle we escaped as relatively unscathed as we did.”

“Am I to take it then that you still wish to lodge a formal complaint about Aramis’ actions yesterday?”

“Yes,” d’Artagnan said firmly. “One’s actions have consequences. It is long past time Aramis understood that.”

Aramis had been laying in bed for nearly an hour waiting for Porthos to wake. He had considered trying to maneuver his way around him but did not want to chance it. Porthos had warned him about waking him up again and Aramis was not sure he could withstand another such assault. 

When Porthos did begin to stir, Aramis literally held his breath. When the man rose from the bed without so much as a word, Aramis began to breathe again. Slowly, he climbed from the bed, trying not to hiss as he moved. Between the attack in the alley yesterday and what happened last night, he could barely move without pain. He had no idea how he would manage to continue their investigation today but he didn’t have much choice. Not unless he wanted to tell Athos what had happened. Recalling the threats Porthos had made, Aramis knew better than to do that.

“Better hurry up,” Porthos said as he finished dressing. “Don’t want to be late.”

“Of course,” Aramis said at once and quickly donned the remainder of his clothes, wincing as he drew his breeches up over his abused backside. “All ready.”

Breakfast was quick and somewhat more somber than any of them were accustomed to. Walking to the garrison together felt off as well, at least to Aramis. He needed to speak to Athos about what had happened last night but he could not do so with Porthos and d’Artagnan there. He would need to come up with some excuse to speak to him alone. For all that he had told Athos not to get between him and Porthos, what happened last night…

Even as cut off from his brothers as Aramis had felt of late, he could still pick up on the undercurrents of emotions running amongst them. Athos was so tense he was nearly vibrating while Porthos and d’Artagnan seemed grimly determined about something. The fact that he, alone, was unaware of whatever the problem might be made the wall that had been growing between them seem even more impenetrable. It was enough to make him forget the throbbing pain in his backside as they walked. 

“My office,” Athos said as they entered the courtyard, the snap in his voice making the command clear.

They followed Athos up the stairs, Porthos firmly closing the door behind them once they were inside. Athos looked the three men over, taking in the nervous glint to Aramis’ eyes. Porthos and d’Artagnan had moved to the side, putting a discernible space between them and their brother. Knowing it would be best to get it over and done, he turned to the two. “Do you both still wish to lodge a formal complaint?” 

“Yes,” both men replied firmly.

“Very well then,” Athos said and turned all of his attention to Aramis. He had not missed the way the man had paled at his question and he had to harden his heart at the pain his brother’s eyes. “Aramis, as a result of your conduct yesterday, your fellow Musketeers have lodged a formal grievance against you. They claim your reckless negligence put them in danger and led to the attack in the alley. You were extremely fortunate that neither of them was badly injured and that no civilians were harmed. Had that been the case, the consequences for you would be considerably more dire.”

As Athos spoke, Aramis felt his blood run cold. He felt sick, as if he might vomit or pass out or perhaps some combination of the two. In all his years as a Musketeer, he had never had a formal grievance leveled against him by one of his comrades. That it was happening now, and by his own brothers no less, made his heart feel as if it was suddenly wrapped in bands of ice that grew tighter with every word Athos spoke.

“Do you have anything to say for yourself?” Athos asked after giving Aramis a moment to take everything in. 

Aramis stared at Athos, wide-eyed. What was he supposed to say? Was he to call his own brothers liars? Claim they judged him too harshly? That it had been a genuine mistake and not the recklessness they claimed it was? All that would do would be to put Athos in the untenable position of having to choose which of them to believe. Aramis was not going to do that. Athos had enough on him without Aramis adding to it.

“Aramis?” Athos queried when the man failed to reply.

“No, Sir. I have nothing to say,” Aramis said softly, his eyes glued to a spot on the wall just over Athos’ left shoulder. 

“So you do not refute the charges?” Athos pressed. “You do not, perhaps, have some explanation for your actions?”

“No, Sir,” Aramis repeated.

“You are leaving me little choice here, Aramis,” Athos sighed in annoyance, the headache from the previous day coming back with a vengeance. “Under normal circumstances such misconduct would warrant a lashing in the garrison courtyard. I am afraid, however, that would do far too much damage to morale as a whole.”

“So what? He gets a slap on the wrist?” Porthos growled.

“Be quiet!” Athos snapped, his eyes never leaving Aramis.

“I will accept whatever disciplinary action you deem fit, Captain,” Aramis said woodenly. 

Athos thought for a moment, considering all of his options. He could have the lashing done in private but he did not think that would be enough to satisfy Aramis’ accusers. No, whatever his punishment was to be, it needed to be public to some degree. Suddenly, an idea occurred to Athos, something that would be public enough to be humiliating yet should do Aramis no lasting harm. 

“I believe that abomination of a shed has taken up space in this garrison for far too long,” Athos said at last. “You will dismantle it. I want it torn down completely so that not a single trace of it remains. And since it has been solely for your use, you alone shall be responsible for its removal.”

Aramis was stunned at Athos’ choice of punishment. The shed, while removed from the majority of the garrison, was still out in the open. It would be clear to everyone that he was being punished for some misdeed. The thought humiliated him. He was still dealing with the humiliation of his visage as it was. To add this to it seemed almost cruel. There was nothing to be done for it though unless he intended to directly disobey the orders of his Captain.

“How long do I have to complete the task?” Aramis asked. The shed had been standing when it had been converted for his use. On his own, it would take some time to tear it down as the Captain wished.

“You will not stop until it is done,” Athos said, fighting not to shiver. He should have lit a fire when they arrived. The constant chill in the air was starting to annoy him. “If you find yourself in need of rest, you may do so in whatever remains of the structure. When you have completed your task to my satisfaction, you will be allowed to leave the garrison once more. Am I understood?”

“Yes, Captain.”

“Then I suggest you get to work.”

The three men watched as Aramis removed his weapons, carefully placing them on the table and quietly exiting Athos’ office. They had all expected a bit more of a fight from him. His meek acceptance of his fate only made him appear even more guilty in his brothers’ eyes. 

“You know he’ll never get that place torn down in a day,” Portos mused as he sat down in front of Athos’ desk.

“Then he will be sleeping here until he does or he will have to come to me and ask for leniency.”

“You really think he’ll do that?” Porthos snorted.

“Sleep here, yes. Ask for leniency, no. He is too concerned with me showing favoritism to any of you to do that.”

“Might want to make sure his new friend’s occupied,” d’Artagnan piped up. “Kid sees Aramis struggling to tear that place down he’s liable to try to help no matter what.”

“I will see to Francois,” Athos replied. “I have already made arrangements for him to spend some time in the field. Do not worry, he won’t be here to interfere.”

&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M

Aramis descended the stairs on numb legs, all of the aches and pains of the last day forgotten. His mind was still reeling from everything that had just happened. He tried to calm himself, to settle the maelstrom whirling inside of him. He had not felt such a cacophony of emotions since the black days after Bathory. Even that time was not as bad as this. For he had not felt this horrible sense of isolation, of being utterly severed from his dear brothers. That, more than anything, tore at him, making it feel as if those bands of ice around his heart had grown jagged thorns that tore into him, leaving him slowly bleeding out even as his heart turned to ice.

He could feel curious sets of eyes on him as he slowly approached the shed but he did his best to ignore them. Though only he and the Captain were allowed inside the building, once he began tearing it down, it would become clear that he was not doing so voluntarily. At least this would ensure that no one could accuse Athos of favoritism. He tried not to think about the coming days he would have to spend here to see this through. That he would not even be allowed to leave the garrison to go home at night hurt most of all. It was as if he was being held apart from his brothers while they slowly excised him from their lives. He had to wonder then if that was not at least part of what this was. Had they finally grown tired of him and all of the problems he brought into their lives? Had they finally figured out that they would be so much better off without him?

Standing in front of the shed, Aramis shivered as a cold draft ran down his spine. He fished the key from his belt and started to unfasten the lock holding the door chained closed. As he did, he glanced around the shadowy alcove of the doorway and froze, the key half-way inside the lock. 

Stacked in the corners, pushed back into the darkest of the shadows where they would not be seen, were dozens of rats. They varied in state from fresh kills near the top to little more than bones nestled at the bottom. Glancing about, Aramis spied yet another pile of desicated vermin, this one including the body of a cat as well. 

His hand shaking, Aramis slowly slid the key back out of the lock. He felt another blast of icy air seep out from around the door and his eyes widened in shock. Forgetting all else, he turned and raced for the stairs. _Something_ was still alive in that shed. 

All three men jumped when Aramis came pounding into the room. He had thrown the door open so hard it rebounded off the wall and slammed shut behind him. He stood panting for a few seconds, trying to get his tumultuous thoughts together. He could not afford to panic. Not now. Something was still in that shed and he had come within a hairsbreadth of letting it out.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Athos demanded as he rounded his desk and strode to Aramis. He felt rage overtake him, making him forget all else. How dare he disobey him like this? How dare he show such insolence?

“The shed…” Aramis began, still somewhat breathless, only to be cut off by Porthos’ enraged growl. 

Aramis had just enough time to realize what was about to happen before Porthos backhanded him hard across the face sending him crashing into Athos. He grabbed for his brother, but Athos spun him around, fisting his hand in his hair and jerking his head back so hard Aramis had to arch his back. He felt Athos’ other arm slide between their bodies, locking his own arms in place behind his back. 

“Can you not do one single fucking thing you are told?” Athos snarled in his ear, pulling so tightly on his hair Aramis thought he meant to pull it out. 

“Athos,” Aramis gasped, his face throbbed where Porthos had struck him, his eye already beginning to swell. “The shed… There’s something… something…”

“Shut your fucking mouth, whore,” Athos spat. “Do you want that lashing after all? Is that what this is about? Is it?”

“N-no. No, I swear. The shed…”

“One more word about that shed and I’ll stripe you bloody myself,” Athos warned, his voice filled with menace. The last time he had felt such uncontrollable rage was when he had dreamt of punishing d’Artagnan. Just like that time, he was powerless to stop it. In fact, he did not want to stop it. The fire singing in his veins chased away the unrelenting cold and made him feel more alive than he had in weeks. Before he could stop himself, Athos bit down hard on the side of Aramis’ neck, relishing the taste of blood that filled his mouth as much as the pained scream it drew from the other man.

“You think you’re so much better than the rest of us, so much smarter,” Athos taunted when he pulled away, licking his lips. “You’re nothing but our fucking whore. It would serve you right if we bent you over my desk and had a go at you right now. Show you the only thing you’re really good for.”

Aramis tried to shake his head but Athos’ grip was too strong. “No, please,” he choked, unable to fathom what was happening. He felt cold all over. The unexpected attack paralyzingly him.

D’Artagnan moved then, coming to stand directly in front of Aramis. He brought his hand up and gently stroked the scars on his face, smirking when the man flinched at his touch. “You used to be so beautiful,” he said wistfully, the sudden pain in Aramis’ eyes sending a dark thrill all through him. “You should be happy we can still stomach the sight of you.”

“It’s not his face we’re all that interested in,” Athos laughed darkly.

“Other than his mouth, of course,” Porthos added, speaking for the first time and making the other two laugh loudly.

Aramis felt himself flush in shame. To hear such words from these men made something inside of him curl up and die. He knew he was ugly now. He saw the proof of it in the mirror every day but to hear his brothers, his lovers, say such things was more than he could bear. It was as if every promise ever made between them was being broken all at once. 

“I think we may need to put another brand on our boy,” d’Artagnan said after a moment. “I mean, who’s going to be looking at his shoulder. We need to make sure whoever’s fucking him knows who owns him after all.”

“Now that’s a thought,” Athos grinned, pulling even tighter on Aramis’ hair when the man began to shake. He could easily imagine how Aramis would look with their crest burned into his ass, marking him as their whore for whoever they let use him.

“What do you think, boy?” D’Artagnan continued. “Should we brand your ass so we can see it every time we bend you over?”

“Brand or no brand, I think we need to christen my office,” Athos said not giving Aramis a chance to say anything. “What do you two…” A sudden noise from outside made them pause. A moment later, they could hear the men calling out Treville’s name loudly. 

“Damn it,” d’Artagnan swore as he went to the window to see what was going on. With all the men clustered around it was hard to tell at first but when they parted for a moment he could see that Captain Treville was indeed back. 

“Well?” Athos called.

“Treville’s back.”

“We need to be down there,” Athos said and shoved Aramis away from him hard. 

Porthos took a step toward Aramis as he staggered forward. Before he could even get his feet under him firmly, Porthos slammed his fist into his unprotected stomach hard and fast driving the man to his knees as all the breath was forced from his body at once.

When Porthos stepped back, d’Artagnan moved forward in his place. Reaching down, he fisted his hand in Aramis’ hair and jerked his head up. “Speak a word of this to anyone and I’ll slit your little friend’s throat. Understand?”

“Yes,” Aramis rasped the word barely audible.

“Yes what, boy?”

“Yes, Master.”

&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M

“I see you managed not to burn the place to the ground,” Treville laughed as the trio descended the stairs into the courtyard. 

“It was a near thing, Sir,” Athos smiled. 

“You’re back early,” d’Artagnan remarked as he and Porthos clustered around Treville with the other men. 

“Constance got to feeling a bit poorly so we came back a few days early.”

“She alright?” Porthos asked.

“Oh yes. No need to worry, gentlemen.”

“If you want to take the next few days, Captain…” Athos offered.

“Nonsense,” Treville replied. “I’d only get underfoot if I was at home. You’ve done a fine job, Athos. Why don’t you lot go collect Aramis and take a couple of days for yourself. You can fill me in on what all I’ve missed when you come back.”

“Thank you, Sir,” Athos said before either of his brothers could object. Arguing now would only make Treville suspicious. The wisest thing for them to do was head to the nearest pub. Aramis was likely already on his way home to lick his wounds. They would have a drink or two then see about finishing what they started.

Aramis stayed where he was, not daring to move, until the door closed behind his brothers. Even then, he stayed on his hands and knees for long seconds and simply panted, trying to get his breath back and stop his heart from hammering its way out of his chest. He knew he could not waste too much time, though. Treville was back. He could come up those stairs at any time and Aramis needed to be gone before he did. 

With one hand braced against his bruised stomach, he slowly got to his feet. He grabbed his weapons off the table and headed into the armory that adjoined the Captain’s office. From there, it was an easy matter to ensure no one was watching as he slipped out the side door and down the back steps. Once on the ground, he headed for the closest alleyway. He needed to get out of sight. If anyone spotted him like this he had no idea how he would explain it. 

&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M

The entity raged when it felt the Seminarian slip from its grasp. It had been so close! The key had been in the lock. All the damnable man had to do was turn it and it would have finally been free. If the one called Treville had not come back when he did, it would have spent hours making him pay. Now, however, its chance was lost.

To be so close and have freedom elude it once again had made it reckless, though. It had pushed too far. The Seminarian was not a fool. He would know something was wrong now and he would seek help. It would need to be cautious. If it was discovered before it could escape they might very well be able to destroy it for good. 

Carefully, it began to withdraw its influence from the three men until it barely brushed their consciousness. It nudged them gently away from the taverns they normally frequented, instead guiding them to a dark, shadowy place where they were not known. Here no one would think twice as they drank themselves into a stupor. And no one would be able to find them should dear Aramis come looking.

&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M

Aramis wasn’t really surprised when he found himself at the back door of their home. He let himself in then quickly secured the door behind him, going so far as to bolt it from the inside. He went around to the front and did the same, effectively sealing himself inside. Striding over to the pantry, he grabbed the strongest bottle of wine they had. He didn’t bother with a cup, but turned the bottle up and drank, gulping the liquor down as quickly as he could. 

By the time he stopped, he was gasping for breath. He wiped the back of his hand across his mouth trying desperately to hold back a sob. Without warning, he threw the bottle, shattering it against the far wall. The strong scent of wine filled the kitchen and Aramis felt his eyes fill with tears. How had his life come to this? Had everything between them been a lie all this time? 

Suddenly, the collar around his throat felt like it was strangling him. He clawed at it, scratching his neck in his haste to rid himself of it. Tearing it free at last, he threw it down onto the kitchen table. He stared down at it and felt his stomach roil. He clenched his hands into fists trying to fight the growing nausea and felt Porthos’ ring dig into his hand. With a snarl, he scrabbled at it as well, wrenching it from his finger and throwing it down next to the collar. 

_Lies!_ his mind shrieked. _Everything they had ever told him was nothing but lies!_ He was such a fool. He should have known this fairy tale would turn into a nightmare. There was no such thing as happily ever after. _Soul mates!_ What rubbish! He was a whore. It was all he had ever been and all he would ever be. Oh how they must have enjoyed seeing him on his knees practically begging for their touch, crawling for them, debasing himself for their amusement. _Never again!_

He needed to get out of here. Treville would not keep them occupied forever and this was likely to be the first place they looked for him. Mind made up, Aramis grabbed his saddlebags from the peg by the door and rushed to the bedroom. He quickly filled it with what clothes he could fit, leaving only enough room for his Bible. His belongings packed, he fished out the purse they kept hidden under the bureau drawer and tied it to his belt. 

Back in the kitchen, the scent of spilled wine nearly made him gag again. It was enough to break through the panic that had taken hold of him and he stopped for a moment and tried to think. Where exactly did he think he was going to go? He had no friends that were not known to the others. Unless he intended to leave Paris altogether, there was nowhere for him to go. 

As he forced himself to stop and think, he recalled all the times of late that things had seemed _off_. While it had begun with Porthos, d’Artagnan had begun acting out of character as well. Athos had been the only one of his brothers that did not seem affected in any way, at least he had until today. He couldn’t go to Treville with this, though he knew the man would help him. It would reveal far more of their relationship than was prudent and it would end up putting Treville and Constance in far too much danger. The only person he could really turn to without fear of exposing their relationship was Michel. Michel would be able to help him, of that he was certain.

When he reached Saint-Severin, Michel took one look at his battered face and quickly ushered him inside. He could tell from the furtive way Aramis glanced about the church that even here he did not feel safe. Knowing the large, open structure of the church was likely the cause, he led him into the vestibule in the back, closing the door securely behind them.

“Oh my friend, who did this to you?” Michel lamented as he pushed Aramis down onto a chair and began examining his face. The entire left side was bruised and his eye was nearly swollen shut. 

“Porthos,” Aramis said softly, looking down in shame.

“What?”

“He… They…”

“Easy now,” Michel soothed, resting a hand on Aramis’ shoulder. When he flinched, Michel frowned then carefully pulled aside the collar of his coat and shirt. The bloody bite mark he saw made him feel ill and he swallowed thickly.

“Porthos, he did this as well?”

“No,” Aramis shook his head. “Athos did that.” At his soft admission, Aramis started to shake as everything crashed down on him at once. His lovers had done this to him. His _brothers_ had done this to him. Once again, he felt everything inside of him turn to ice as he tried to reconcile the men he had known with the ones who had attacked him. Surely everything could not have been a lie all this time. _Could it?_

Michel watched helplessly as the young man before him began to crumble. Gingerly, he wrapped his arms around him, aware that he had endured a horrific trauma and might not react well to any feeling of confinement no matter how well-intentioned. He need not have worried, for Aramis grabbed onto him tightly, holding the old Priest to him as if he were the only anchor he had left in this world.

Michel held him until the worst of the shaking had eased. Pulling back but not letting go entirely, he studied the younger man, taking in everything he had been too shocked to notice before. Aramis was armed. More armed, in fact, than Michel had ever seen him. That he had crammed what possessions he could into the saddlebags at his feet was quite clear as well. His young friend was running, but what was he truly running from?

“Aramis, I feel we have no choice but to speak of this. Do you feel up to doing so now?”

“I do not know if I will ever feel up to doing so but needs must.”

“Very well. You said they attacked you,” Michel began carefully. “Was it just Athos and Porthos? Where was d’Artagnan?”

“No, he was part of it as well.”

“And is this the first time they have tried to harm you in some way?”

“I suppose. I mean they didn’t actually do me any harm before.”

“What did they do?”

“Porthos has been… distant… critical. He…” Aramis looked down again, too ashamed to speak. He knew he should probably tell Michel of what happened with Porthos just last night, but he simply could not. 

“Whatever you say here will have the sanctity of the confessional,” Michel assured him. 

“I do not wish to seem petty.”

“You have not and will not. Now tell me.”

“It is what we spoke of before. He would treat me as if I were little more than their servant. Even when I was finally sent on patrol with them, he was critical of my every move.”

“Is he the only one who has been acting this way?”

“No. No, d’Artagnan… I grew angry at Porthos’ continued criticism. Once we were alone, he… he grabbed me by the collar. He warned me never to speak to Porthos in such a manner again. He even…”

“Tell me,” Michel implored gently.

“He even made me call him Master. He told me whenever we were in the house that I was to address him that way and that way only.”

Michel closed his eyes at his friend’s pain, wishing he could do more to ease it. All he could do was to help Aramis try to get to the root of this so he could get past it. “And Athos? Has he said or done anything?”

“No, nothing. The attack today that was the first.”

“Tell me what you were doing just prior to the attack,” Michel said. He hoped taking a more clinical, factual approach would allow Aramis to recount what happened without growing overly distressed. There had to be something that had triggered this. He could not believe those three men had turned on Aramis of their own accord. 

“I was given a punishment detail to dismantle the shed,” Aramis began. All at once, his eyes went wide. “Michel! Michel, something is alive in that shed!”

“How do you know this?” Michel asked urgently, his belly knotting in fear.

“When I went down to unlock it, I noticed carcasses piled up in the corners. Rats mostly. It was as if they had been drained of life. I ran back up to tell them and that’s…”

“That is when they attacked you,” Michel finished for him, nodding as if things suddenly made sense to him.

“Whatever is in there, it is the cause of this, isn’t it?” Aramis said, feeling sick with guilt over not recognizing what was going on.

“I believe so, yes,” Michel said. At this point, he actually hoped that was the case. At least then Aramis might be able to salvage his relationships with these men. 

“How could I have been so blind? I knew something was off with Porthos, yet I did nothing!”

“Aramis, do you truly believe that if whatever still resides in that shed is strong enough to influence your brothers, that it was not doing the same to you?”

Aramis frowned, shaking his head. He had felt no influence. Nothing like before. 

“It would have been subtle,” Michel continued gently. “Just enough to dampen your suspicions. Or turn them on yourself, perhaps?”

“I should have seen it,” Aramis tried to argue.

“It was not allowing you to see,” Michel said firmly. “If it is the evil we think it is, then it is aware of the danger you more than any other pose to it. It blinded you, my son.”

“So what do we do now?” Aramis asked, at a complete loss. He had not felt so adrift since Savoy and Marsac. He felt cut off, as if his only ally in all the world was this one old priest.

“Now, you rest,” Michel said. “You cannot return home. Not until we are certain your brothers are no longer being affected in some way.”

“All appearances to the contrary, I can defend myself,” Aramis quipped, though it fell flat.

“The question is not could you defend yourself but rather would you. For I do not believe you would. There are three of them. If they cornered you, you would likely have to do a great deal of damage to escape them. Are you truly willing to do so?”

“No,” Aramis whispered. No, if the choice was to hurt them or simply let them have at him, he knew which he would choose. He hesitated then finally forced himself to ask the question that plagued him most. “What if it is true, Michel? What if they really did mean all those things they said?”

“I do not believe that,” Michel stated flatly. “I cannot. Not after seeing how worried they were for you, how much they cared for you. Even when you were struggling and lashing out at them, they fought for you.”

“Perhaps they simply did not wish to lose their whore.”

“Now I know you need rest. You are hurt and angry and scared. It is these feelings that make you even consider such a thing. They love you, Aramis. As you love them. Whatever has them in its grip, we shall find it and we shall destroy it.”

“Yes, Father,” Aramis replied, no longer having the strength to argue.

“There is a bed in the adjacent room. You may lock the door if it will help you sleep. First though, are you hurt anywhere else?”

“Not really. My ribs and stomach are a bit tender where Porthos hit me but no true damage was done.”

“Then sleep, my dear friend. I give you my word, I will stay and watch over you. But first, let us pray.”

&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M

Athos was the first to wake. When he attempted to lift his head, he felt the room tilt and had to close his eyes, gripping the rough wooden table until the world stopped spinning. His brain felt too big for his skull and his eyes were gritty. He had not felt this hung over in years. Not since his brothers had given him something to live for beyond the bottom of a bottle.

With a groan, he forced himself upright and looked around him with blurry eyes. Wherever he was, Porthos and d’Artagnan were with him, both men still passed out on the table they shared. He saw no sign of Aramis and felt a faint niggling of worry. He tried to recall where they were but could not seem to remember anything past what must surely have been early yesterday morning. That was enough to cut through the pounding in his skull. Even at his drunkest, he always remembered. That was always his problem. He remembered, no matter how much he wanted to forget, he remembered.

Reaching over, he gave Porthos a hard shake then did the same to d’Artagnan. He was relieved when they both came awake, albeit groggily. He watched them take in their surroundings and frown. He knew the exact moment when they realized that Aramis was not with them, the confusion in their eyes giving ways to actual fear. 

“Where are we?” D’Artagnan rasped. He reached for one of the half-empty mugs of wine on the table and gulped it down, quenching his parched throat.

“Tavern,” Athos replied succinctly. “No idea which one.”

“We’ve not been here before,” Porthos said, taking another look around. “Close to the Court, if I had to guess.”

“Where’s Aramis?” D’Artagnan asked, voicing the thing that all of them were worried about.

“I am afraid I don’t know that either,” Athos said. “We need to get out of here and find him. Do either of you remember anything past breakfast yesterday?”

Porthos and d’Artagnan both thought back, trying to recall the last thing they could remember. “I think… Did Treville come back?” D’Artagnan asked as bits and pieces started returning.

“Yeah,” Porthos said. “Yeah, I think he did.”

“He gave us the rest of the day off,” Athos supplied. 

“Aramis wasn’t with us,” Porthos frowned. “It was just us three.”

As they sat, more and more of the previous day began to come back. They traded the memories back and forth around the table, hoping to spur each other on. Each new fragment they recovered, however, brought with it a dawning sense of horror. When Athos recalled the dressing down he gave Aramis, it was his turn to reach for whatever wine was left and gulp it down hastily.

“What the hell did we do?” Porthos whispered, stunned. They had put Aramis on report. They had gone so far as to demand Athos reprimand him and for what? Losing sight of the men they chased and taking the wrong alley? 

“I’m more worried about the why of it than the what,” d’Artagnan said. “Why would we do that to him? He didn’t… he didn’t do anything wrong.”

“And yet we…” Athos choked on his words as those final missing memories came rushing back. He felt the wine he had just downed threaten to come back up and once again gripped the table to steady himself. 

“No,” d’Artagnan gasped as he, too, recalled their encounter in Athos’ office. He could not believe he had said such hateful things to Aramis. The worst, though, was when he forced him to call him Master. He had never forced such a thing on the man. The very thought was revolting. Yet he had. 

“Please,” Porthos groaned, his eyes going to Athos. “Tell me we didn’t do that. Please, brother.” The memory of backhanding Aramis was vile. It was worse than even his memories of the ruins. At least then it had not really been him doing such things. This time, though, there was no other he could blame. The fault lay at his feet and his alone.

“I wish I could,” Athos said, his own voice strangled. He wanted desperately not to believe that they had assaulted Aramis, attacking him like a pack of wild dogs, but he knew it was true. Deep down, he knew it was true and so did the others. 

“Why?” D’Artagnan asked, his dark eyes far too wide.

“I wish I knew,” Athos said. He scrubbed his hand over his face then sat back. He wanted to find the biggest, strongest bottle of wine he could and drink until he could no longer remember any of this. He knew better than to even try though. There was no point. He always remembered. 

“We have to find him,” Porthos said, forcing down his guilt. There would be time for guilt later, once they made sure Aramis was safe. 

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Aramis was awake and sitting up when Michel came to check on him. He had slept a bit, off and on, but it seemed as though every time he managed to drift off one nightmare or another woke him. He tried to keep Michel’s words in the forefront of his mind. Whatever was still in that shed had been influencing his brothers, and himself as well apparently. It had not truly been them that had attacked him, that had been tormenting him for days now. Still, it was hard to let go of the overwhelming sense of betrayal he felt. 

“Did you get any sleep at all?” Michel asked.

“A bit,” Aramis replied. “Snatches mostly. It would seem my mind cannot stop dwelling on… things.”

“Understandable. The mind seeks to understand, as much as it can at least. It will not rest easy until it does. You are still troubled, still seeking to understand how men you trusted so completely could do you such harm.”

“So it would seem,” Aramis agreed. “I know you believe that whatever evil that is still locked in that shed is the cause of this. I am trying to believe that. I mean, I do believe it. But I find myself wondering how much of their actions was the result of that influence and how much was not.”

“You have fought this type of evil before,” Michel reminded him. “You know how insidious it can be. It seeks to manipulate, to warp what is inside of us.”

“And that is my point,” Aramis replied. “It may manipulate what is inside of us, but there must be something there in the first place. How much of their anger, their resentment and mockery, was actually their own?”

Sighing, Michel sat down beside Aramis. “Was there anger and resentment in the hearts of your brothers? Of course. All men carry such things inside of them. That does not mean they were attributed to you.”

Michel left him to his thoughts after that, needing to prepare the church for the day. He had bade him not to leave until they knew for certain that the others were free of whatever influence they had been acting under. Aramis knew they didn’t have much time, though. There was something in that shed and they needed to deal with it before it grew even stronger. Michel was right, though. For him to leave the sanctuary of the church before they were sure they no longer posed a threat would be foolhardy. 

As he sat thinking, Aramis could hear Michel moving about in the church proper. He had left the door ajar for which Aramis was grateful. Hearing Michel going through his morning routine was comforting. At least something in his upside-down world still made sense.

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D’Artagnan had suggested starting their search at the garrison but Athos had shook his head. Treville had given all of them a couple of days. Aramis would not have stayed there. Besides, if any of the other men had seen the state of him, Athos had no doubt they would have been tracked down long before now whether Aramis attested to their culpability or not.

No, their brother had not remained at the garrison, but Athos thought he might well have gone home. They made their way there as quickly as they could without drawing too much attention to themselves. The need to find Aramis, to make sure he was alright, growing ever stronger and urging them insistently. 

When they reached the house they hurried through the back door in their haste. “Aramis?” Porthos called out, desperately hoping their lover was there. 

“Athos, look,” d’Artagnan said, pointing to the wall where their doublets and saddlebags normally sat. 

“His saddlebags are gone,” Athos acknowledged. 

Porthos felt fear grip his insides at Athos’ words. Their lover was running. From them. It was nearly enough to send him to his knees. It likely would have if the need to find Aramis had not still been so strong within him.

“What now?” D’Artagnan asked. “Where do we even start looking?”

“We know the places he frequents,” Athos said, trying to hide his ever-growing worry. “We will start at the closest and work our way outward.”

“Do you think we might should check with the Captain and Constance?” Porthos asked.

“No,” Athos replied. “I do not believe he will have gone to them. They would have asked too many questions he would not want to answer. Besides, if he had gone to Treville someone would have hunted us down before now.”

With a tentative plan in place they began their search. By mid-day they still had not found him and it was getting harder and harder to keep their rising panic at bay. They understood that the longer it took them to find Aramis, the smaller their chance of success. And they needed to find him. They needed him to know they had not meant all the horrible, hurtful things they had said and done to him. The longer it took to start making amends, the smaller their chance of success was there, too.

When Athos started to lead them to the next tavern, d’Artagnan stopped him. “We aren’t going to find him in a tavern, Athos.”

“Then where do you suggest we look?” Athos asked hotly then sighed, his shoulders sagging. “Forgive me, brother. I did not mean to take my worry out on you.”

“It’s alright,” d’Artagnan said. “I’m scared, too.”

“The church,” Porthos said suddenly. “Saint-Severin. He would have gone there.”

“Alright,” Athos agreed. Porthos was probably right. Aramis would have gone to Michel but that did not mean he had stayed there. Still, Michel might be able to point them in the right direction. 

They rushed into the church, hoping to find Aramis there with the old priest. Michel gave them a stern look at their boisterous entrance then shook his head and bid them forward. He went to the altar and waited for them. 

“Father Michel, have you seen Aramis?” Athos asked. He could see the wariness in the priest’s eyes and knew the answer to his question was yes. Whether or not Michel admitted it would give him an idea of just how much Aramis might have confided in the man.

“Why do you ask?” 

“Please, Michel,” Athos entreated. “We need to find him.”

“Why?” Michel pressed as he eyed the three men. It was clear that they were distressed but Michel needed to make sure they were free of whatever had them in its grip before he told them anything.

“He… he might be hurt,” Porthos offered, licking his lips nervously. 

“Might be? I think we all know there is no doubt of that.”

“You have seen him then,” Athos said.

“Perhaps. But until you tell me why you seek him, the true reason, you will get no more from me than that.”

“We hurt him,” d’Artagnan said, the words alone nearly making him ill right then and there.

“I am aware of that, young man. You still have not answered my question, though.”

“We seek him to make sure he is alright or as alright as he can be given the circumstances,” Athos answered. “And we seek to make amends, if he will deign to let us.”

As Michel stood assessing the three men before him, Aramis listened intently from the vestibule. He had heard their loud entrance and had donned his doublet and weapons unsure if the three of them still posed a threat. He did not think Michel to be in any danger. From what he had seen, he was the only target for their abuse. Still, it would be unwise not to be prudent.

Listening to them even from a distance, Aramis could hear the sincerity and worry in their voices. It tore at him, making him have to fight not to go to them even now. This was the very reason Michel had insisted he stay here. His friend knew he would not be able to hold himself back from them if they appeared to be in need. 

“Michel, please,” Athos implored when the priest failed to say anything more.

“First, you will take Holy Communion,” Michel said firmly. “After that, we can perhaps discuss the matter.”

One by one, Michel administered Communion, watching them closely for any sign. He well remembered how violently Aramis had reacted during his possession when it was forced upon him. While he did not believe these men to be under the control of something, he did not believe they would be able to take the Host within them if still under the influence of something evil.

“Well, it would seem you are no longer being influenced,” Michel said.

“Influenced?” D’Artagnan repeated.

“Aramis has discovered that something still lives within the confines of the shed at your garrison. We believe whatever it is has been influencing you. This influence is what drove you to do the things you did. I believe it also blinded Aramis to what was going on.”

“Aramis… he believes this?” Porthos asked.

“Yes, though he still struggles with all that was said and done.”

“Michel, do you know where he is?” Athos asked again.

“Go home, Athos,” Michel told him.

“He’s not there. We already looked,” Porthos said in frustration. 

“Then I suggest you look again,” Michel replied. “Go home, gentlemen. If he is not there, he will be soon enough.”

They left the church and hurried through the streets, desperate to get home. Michel said he would be there and Athos did not think the priest would lie to them. If he had no intention of telling them where Aramis was he would have simply kicked them out of his church. He would not be so cruel as to offer false hope.

Yet as they rushed toward home, all but shoving people aside, Athos realized that while Michel had told them where to look for Aramis, he had not told them much beyond that. For all they knew, Aramis could be gathering the remainder of his belongings.

A block away from the house, Porthos stopped. “Wait,” he called out, making Athos and d’Artagnan stop and turn toward him.

“Why are we stopping?” D’Artagnan asked impatiently.

“What are we going to say to him?” Porthos asked. “What _can_ we say to him to make up for all we’ve done?”

“I have no idea,” Athos admitted. “I know you have been exceedingly critical of him these past days, Porthos. Has more gone on that I am unaware of?”

“Yes,” d’Artagnan replied succinctly. 

“What have you two been doing to him?” The carefully banked anger unable to be hidden. 

Porthos looked away then. He did not think he could stomach telling Athos of all he had done. Not only that, but it would delay them far too long. Shaking his head he said, “It doesn’t matter right now. We need to find him first. Then we can start working on fixing everything.”

Athos studied him, taking in the slump of his shoulders and the way he refused to meet his eyes. When he looked at d’Artagnan, he saw a similar demeanor and felt his blood go cold. “You are right,” he said though he did not want to. “Now is neither the time nor place for this. I promise you, though, we will be discussing it.”

Porthos and d’Artagnan both nodded. They understood that their reckoning would come but that was for later. Right now, they just needed to get to Aramis. Hopefully before it was too late.


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Snow_Glory for all the help with this one. This was a very touch part to get through.

Part 21

Aramis sat at the kitchen table waiting for his brothers to arrive.  Michel had kept them talking a bit longer, giving him time to make his way here and prepare for them.  When he had come through the door, he had thrown his doublet down with his still full saddlebags and turned toward the table.  He had taken a single step before he had stopped and turned back to pick up one of his pistols.  He set it down on the table in front of him then rested his elbows on either side of it.  He hung his head, his hands running through his hair and cradling the back of his skull. Tugging roughly at his hair, his body still aching from the various abuses it had suffered, he could not keep from glancing up, his eyes continually going to the collar and ring that lay in the center of the table.

As he waited, his brothers’ words ran circles through his head.  Being called a whore was nothing new to him, but to have Athos do so was something else entirely.  Athos’ respect had always been important to him even before they were lovers.  When he had started courting him, Athos had treated him like he was something precious, something beautiful and _pure_.  To know Athos only saw him as the easy slut everyone else did, hurt.

As for his visage, he knew how monstrous his countenance was now.  He need only glance in a mirror for confirmation.  Or catch the eyes of the nearest serving girl.  Yet they had all told him it did not matter, saying he was as beautiful to them as ever.  And he had naively believed them.  He was such a fool.  

Their physical attacks had paled in comparison.  While the side of his face still throbbed dully, as did the bite on his neck, it was the painful bruises on his backside that hurt his heart the most.  That Porthos had beaten him in such a manner… it was something he was having a hard time getting past.  And what happened after… Porthos had never treated him in such a manner, had never genuinely forced him.  Yet he could not consider what had happened as anything else.  He had been well and truly afraid of his lover.  In all the years he had known Porthos he had never been afraid of the man, not for his own sake.

As bad as Porthos’ abuse had been, the worst of all was d’Artagnan.  He had never thought the younger man would use his status as his Master against him like that.  It left him feeling so humiliated he could barely withstand it.  It broke every bond of trust between them, reducing him to an insignificant toy that could be broken and discarded at will.  That was exactly how he felt as he waited for them now… broken.  So broken, in fact, that he did not think he would ever be whole again.

Like at the church, he heard them long before they managed to get the back door unbolted.  When they finally got the door open, their worry and haste making the job take significantly longer than it should have, they all but tumbled through the doorway.  The sight of Aramis, however, stopped them in their tracks.  They took in the way Aramis did not move at their entry, as though he was completely drained.  The fact that he had one of his pistols on the table before him spoke volumes as well.  They moved into the kitchen much more slowly then, approaching the man almost warily and making sure to stop far short of actually reaching him.  As they neared, their eyes fell on the collar and ring in the center of the table.

“Aramis?” Porthos called cautiously. 

Aramis slowly raised his head and looked at his brothers wearily.  He had to bite down on the laugh that threatened to come out, afraid of how close to a sob it was likely to be.  He started to rub his free hand over his face and winced in pain.  He knew that his brothers were not to blame for what happened to him.  Not truly.  They had been under the influence of something… other.  As had he, if Michel was to be believed.  Still, the memories of all that had happened were too fresh for him to simply brush off.  He could not do it.  Not yet.

“Little One?” d’Artagnan began.

“Do _not_ call me that,” Aramis snarled, his hand going to the pistol resting on the table before him as he sat up straighter.  

D’Artagnan reared back at the unexpected rebuke.  He could see the anger in Aramis’ eyes and it made his heart ache.  He had not meant to call him that, it had slipped out.  Remembering how he had mockingly used that very endearment, and in public no less, it was no wonder Aramis reacted as he did.  It was no wonder his collar no longer graced his neck.  

“Aramis,” Athos called softly, trying to pull his attention away from d’Artagnan.  He had no idea what all had gone on between the pair but whatever it was, it was serious.  

Aramis stared, wide-eyed at Athos.  It suddenly felt like the very walls were closing in on him.  He glanced toward Porthos and immediately looked away, the dark scowl on the man’s face making his insides twist painfully.  He could feel panic welling within him even as he told himself he was being foolish.  They had taken Communion.  There was no danger now.  He was safe.  But he did not feel safe.  

It felt like everything was crashing in on him at once and he didn’t know what to do.  He rose from the table on shaky legs, his eyes flitting to his brothers only briefly before looking down again.  “I… I haven’t made supper yet.  I… I should do that.  I know I ran off without finishing my punishment detail.  I can… I can return to the garrison after I… I cook.  I, um, you look worried.  I didn’t meant to make you worry.  Though why you would worry about me is… well, that’s ridiculous.  I know what a burden I have become to you all.  I… I don’t really know how to fix that.  I-I-I’m trying…”

“Aramis, stop,” Athos said, taking a step forward before he could stop himself.  Listening to Aramis go on like this was like a knife twisting in his heart.  He could see the panic in his lover’s eyes, could read it in the tenseness of his shoulders, the way his gaze swept the room again and again, checking his avenues of escape, making sure they did not have him trapped.  

Aramis froze when Athos moved toward him.  He could see the concern written all over his face.  He could see the same on Porthos and d’Artagnan as well.  Yet superimposed over their worried visages were the images of sneering hate-filled faces taunting and mocking him.

Shaking his head as icy panic clawed its way up his throat, Aramis grabbed the pistol from the table and backed toward the open doorway leading to the sitting room.  “I can’t do this,” he whispered brokenly before turning and fleeing through the doorway and up the stairs to the spare bedroom.  He slammed the door shut, locking and bolting it behind him before throwing himself down on the floor against it for good measure as great wracking sobs forced their way free.

In the kitchen, the three men stared after the other man.  Porthos started to go after him but Athos grabbed him by the arm, stopping him.  “Let him go,” Athos said.

“But…”

“Do you want him to end up shooting you?” Athos asked, frustration and worry making his tone sharper than he intended.  He took a deep breath and forced himself to calm down.  “Or worse still, himself?  He’s on the edge, Porthos.  You could see that as well as I.  He needs his space.  Aramis never reacts well when cornered.”

Porthos huffed in reluctant agreement.  Athos had a valid point.  And Aramis would flay himself alive if he accidentally hurt one of them in his panic.  Best to let him calm down and come to them but he had never been the most patient man, not where Aramis was concerned.  

“Let’s go and wait for him in the sitting room,” Athos said.  It was better than standing around there and he certainly did not want his brothers sitting at the kitchen table.  Not with Aramis’ ring and collar still lying in the middle of it.  Athos tried not to think about what all that could mean.  That wasn’t important right now.  Right now they just had to get Aramis to let them come near him without drawing blood.  

They ended up having to all but lead d’Artagnan into the other room after stripping down to just their shirts and breeches.  It would seem Aramis’ rebuke had been taken to heart by the younger man much more so than was probably intended.  Athos pressed him down into the chair and frowned when he sat without a word.  He turned to Porthos only to find him pacing almost angrily in front of the sofa.  Porthos had never been one for waiting around and this time was no exception.  Athos hoped the incessant pacing was helping to wear off some of his nervous energy.  His own insides were like ice, the memory of Aramis running from them sending a cold chill through him to his very bones.  He tried to push that thought and every one like it as far from his mind as possible.  He had a feeling they were going to need all of their wits about them when Aramis finally did rejoin them.

Porthos could not help but pace as they waited in the sitting room for Aramis.  The urge to go to Aramis, to find him and comfort him, was nearly overwhelming.  It made him ache inside and the only way to keep from running up those stairs after the man was to keep moving, back and forth in front of the damnable sofa.  He knew Athos was right, that Aramis needed space right now.  But to see such mistrust, such open fear on the face of his lover and know that _he_ had put it there made him want to be sick.  And he knew the longer Aramis stayed up there, the longer it took for Aramis to feel able to face them again, the more dire the likely outcome.  He tried to console himself with the fact that Aramis was still here, that he had come home.  He tried to tell himself that it was a good sign, that everything was not lost, but the longer Aramis stayed away the harder it was to keep believing.

Upstairs, as no one came charging after him, Aramis’ breathing slowly began to calm.  His panic abating, he was able to think at least semi-rationally once more.  He reminded himself that he had seen them at Michel’s church.  He had seen them take Communion with his own eyes.  He knew they were no longer under the influence of whatever evil still existed in that shed.  None of them were.   _They were free of its influence.  He was safe.  His brothers would not hurt him again._  These were the things he told himself over and over as he chased away the last of his panic.  

He knew he needed to face them, that he could not simply hide in this room.  He was a man, not some simpering coward.  He had never run from a fight in his life.  But these were his brothers.  He had no desire to fight them which is why he had run.  It was a rather vicious cycle and one Aramis knew had to be broken before it ended up breaking them.  

He had to use the wall to get to his feet, his legs not wanting to support him.  They still felt weak, as if they would give out at the slightest provocation, but he was determined to face them.  He remembered the looks on all of their faces just before he had fled the room.  They had looked so upset, so worried about him.  The longer he stayed up here, locked away, the more worried they would become.  

Taking a deep breath, Aramis carefully unbolted and unlocked the door.  He paused and looked at the pistol held loosely in his hand.  He thought about what message that would send to the others, to come back down those stairs to them gun in hand.  From the looks of them in the kitchen, he thought it might well break d’Artagnan completely.  

His hand shaking, he set it on the nightstand.  He immediately wanted to pick it back up but he didn’t.  The coming confrontation was going to be hard enough.  He did not need to make it any harder.  Besides, he would keep the stairs to his back until he knew for certain he was safe.  He could be back up them and to his weapon before they could get to him, he was sure of it.  With that in mind, he quietly opened the door and began descending the stairs.  He didn’t even realize how quietly he was moving, or that he was consciously doing so.  At least not until he reached the sitting room doorway.

All three men jumped when Aramis appeared in the doorway like a ghost, d’Artagnan even crying out in his sudden surprise.  “My apologies,” Aramis said, forcing a grin, though it was a shadow if its usual self.  “I did not mean to move so silently.”

“You have always been able to move the quietest of us, brother,” Athos said, trying to cover his lapse.  “Especially barefoot.”

Aramis took a deep breath and tried to keep a grip on his emotions.  He was still fearful and somewhat angry which only served to make him yet more fearful.  “We should… we…” Aramis trailed off, unsure what to say or do.  He knew they needed to sit down and talk this out but he did not know if he was able to.   

“Will you sit with us?” Athos asked carefully.  “Here?  We can take the sofa so you do not feel so crowded by us.”  
   
Aramis opened his mouth to answer, to tell Athos that wasn’t necessary, but he couldn’t get the words out.  Instead, he simply nodded somewhat jerkily and watched with hawk-like eyes as they did as Athos said, moving to the sofa so he could take the chair.  Athos looked toward d’Artagnan to see if he would need help once more but the younger man was already standing so he moved to his usual end of the sofa and sat.  Porthos and d’Artagnan soon joined him with Porthos making sure to put the younger man in the middle.  

Only when they were seated, did Aramis move forward to take the empty chair.  He moved it so that it sat facing them in the middle, more or less.

“Aramis…” Athos began then trailed off.  What was there to say?  What could he possibly say to make up for what he had done, what they all had done?  The fact that Aramis had felt the need to be armed when they had arrived, that even now he was wary to move closer, it made Athos truly fear for what was to become of them.  

“I… I saw you… I saw you… at Michel’s.  I know… know you are no longer…. I saw you take Communion… I know that means… means you are-are-are free of it now…” Aramis stammered.  He could barely get the words out.  Every time he looked at them, he had to look away.  He could feel panic rising within him and began to silently recite the Lord’s Prayer, hoping the familiar litany would stave off the worst of it.  

“I’m so sorry,” Porthos choked.  He didn’t know what else to say.  That he had hurt this man, that he had intentionally struck him, tore at him.  When he recalled what he had done to him the night before, he felt his insides twist.  He did not blame him for no longer wanting to wear his ring.  Porthos doubted if he could stomach wearing the ring of a man that had abused him so either.  That Aramis was even allowing him this close was more than he deserved and he knew it.  

“Y-y-yes, well…,” Aramis said then stopped.  He clasped his hands tightly, digging his nails into the back of his hands deeply.  For a while he just breathed, forcing his panic back down so that he might face his brothers as a man rather than a sniveling coward.

Feigning more calm than he actually felt, Aramis began again, his voice soft but loud at the same time.  “I wish… I wish that I could say I do not blame you.  I know… I kn-know it wasn’t your fault.  Yet part of me wonders how much truth there was to your words.  This evil, it twists that which is inside us, but it must be inside us in the first place.  So-so-so I find myself asking how much of what you did was… was genuine.”

“None of it,” Athos stated firmly.  He saw Aramis start to protest and quickly went on.  “You may be right.  It may have twisted what was inside of us.  But if that is the case then it twisted what we feel for you until it was unrecognizable.”

“How can… how can you be so certain?  For I cannot,” Aramis replied, the last all but a whisper.

“I know,” Athos said sadly.  “I know the trust between us has been broken.  I can only pray that it is not irrevocably so.  Is that the case?  Have we destroyed all that was between us?”

“I…” Aramis turned his head, unable to look at them just then.  The pain and fear on their faces was almost more than he could bear.  They were his brothers.  To see them suffering and do nothing went against everything he was.  Yet to offer absolution was beyond him.  He could not do it.  Not yet.  

“Do you… do you want us to leave?” D’Artagnan asked, his voice breaking at the end.  To lose his Little One was bad enough, but to lose Aramis altogether was not something he thought he would survive.

Aramis didn’t reply.  He did not want to force them from their home.  If anyone left, it would be him.  On the other hand, he was not sure he could stand them so close.  As it was, he could hardly bring himself to look at them.  He wanted to be able to tell d’Artagnan no, that he did not want them to leave.  He wanted to be able to tell Athos that this rift between them would heal.  He wanted to tell Porthos he still loved him, in spite of everything.  Yet he could not bring himself to lie.

“Please,” Porthos begged softly.  “We did not mean what we did.  I did not mean it.  That I raised a hand to you makes me sick.  What I did… what I did the other night…” Porthos looked away, too ashamed to look at his lover any longer.  He felt tears run down his face.  He had told Aramis once that losing him would kill him.  Surely this is what it felt like to slowly die, bleeding out from the inside.

“What can we do?” Athos asked, the desperation in his voice clear.  “How can we prove ourselves to you again?  How can we ever make amends for what we have done?  Tell us.  Tell us and we shall do it at once.  Just…”

Aramis turned back to face them once more.  His eyes met Athos’ own and he held them.  Of all of them, Athos was the one he was least wary of.  He was not sure if it was because he had not turned on him until the very end or if it stemmed from something else.  Perhaps it was simply the fact that it was Athos.  

Knowing they would never resolve anything if he did not speak, he forced himself to.  “Just?” He prompted.

“Just… please don’t leave me,” Athos said softly, his voice almost too faint to be heard.  

“I… I am still here,” Aramis offered.  He could do no more than that.  Even that much had been like chewing on broken glass, painful and bloody.

“Are you?” Athos whispered.  “You sit apart from us, this distance like an ocean.  Even now your eyes sweep the room making sure your avenues of escape are still viable.”

“Can you blame me?” Aramis challenged, his anger spiking.  “Forgive me, _brother_ , if I do not feel entirely safe in my own home of late.”

“No,” Athos replied despondently.  “No, I cannot blame you.  Do you wish us to leave as d’Artagnan asked?”

“If I wanted you to leave I would never have allowed you past the threshold in the first place,” Aramis replied, his anger finally giving him a voice again.  

Athos nodded, understanding Aramis’ meaning.  Knowing something had to give, he slowly slid from the sofa and onto his knees.  He did not try to draw any closer to Aramis.  He knew better.  If Aramis wanted him closer, would allow him closer, he would be the one to signal as much.  

“What are you doing?” Aramis asked, his voice rising nervously.

“I would crawl through Hell on my hands and knees for you,” Athos told him.  “I will do anything to earn back your trust.  Anything.  I know you cannot offer such a thing now.  I have done nothing to earn it.  Just know that, whatever it takes, I will do so and gladly if it will bring you even one _step_ closer to me.”

“Why does it matter so much if I go or stay?” Aramis asked, his mood shifting yet again as his anger turned to despondency.  “You are certainly not lacking in lovers.  You still have the others.  What difference do I make?”

“That you even ask such a thing breaks my heart.  You make all the difference, Aramis.  We may have each other… for now.  But our world revolves around you.  You are the very heart and soul of us.  Without you…” Athos shrugged.  He felt utterly helpless, wanting to reach out to the other man yet knowing he could not.  They truly were lost without Aramis.  So much so that Athos wondered if any of their relationships would survive the loss of him.

“I am not so important,” Aramis insisted weakly.  “You have d’Artagnan and he you.  He is your other half, you told me as much.  You do not need me.  I fear I lost you some time ago, Athos.”

“You never lost me and we do need you.  You are as vital to us as the very air we breathe.  I do not know that I will ever forgive myself for what I have done to you.  And it does not matter whether or not I was being manipulated as you put it.  All that matters is that I did harm to the one person…” Athos trailed off again, his emotions choking the words from his throat.  D’Artagnan might be the other half of him, but he would die without Aramis.  Yet how could he say such a thing?  How could he burden Aramis with that after everything he had done?

“Athos is right,” d’Artagnan added softly.  “You are everything to us.”

Aramis could not stop himself from flinching at d’Artagnan’s words.  He could not stop himself from recalling how this man had cowed him, abusing the trust between them as he forced him to submit.

Athos kept his eyes locked on Aramis.  He did not miss it when he flinched at the sound of d’Artagnan’s voice.  He wondered for a moment what all the lad might have done to make Aramis’ pain so much greater.  There would be time enough later to figure that out, though.  Right now the only thing he cared about was getting Aramis to let him back in.

“Aramis,” Athos called, bringing the man’s attention back to him.  “I love you.  I have loved you for years.  I will go to my grave loving you.  I only hope I do not do so with you hating me in return.”

Aramis felt himself grow weak and slowly slid from the chair onto his knees as well.  His hands finally unclenched to hang limply at his sides.  He loved this man.  He loved this man so much.  He wanted desperately to believe what Athos was telling him.  Dropping his head, he let the tears that wanted to fall do so.  He was tired and hurt and scared and all he wanted in that moment was to curl up in a ball in Athos’ arms and have him tell him everything was going to be alright.

“Please don’t cry,” Athos beseeched.  That he was responsible for bringing this man to tears made that helpless feeling inside of him grow even stronger. 

“I love you,” Aramis whispered, his eyes glued to the floor.  

“Please.  Please, may I come closer?” 

Aramis nodded, unable to speak the words.  He heard Athos moving nearer and balled his hands into fists once more.  From the sound of it, his brother had not left his knees as he slowly inched nearer.  He heard him stop when he was next to him.  Athos was close enough to reach out and touch, close enough that he thought he could feel the heat of his body.  

All at once, Aramis felt his resolve crumble.  He began to sob, unable to hold his pain inside of him any longer.  He flinched when he felt Athos’ arms come around him, but he did not try to pull away.  Instead, he laid his head on his shoulder, letting Athos hold him.  Slowly, his arms came up and he gripped weakly onto Athos in return as he poured out all the anguish inside of him.

“I’m sorry.  I’m sorry.  I’m sorry.  I love you,” Athos said over and over again as he held Aramis.  He had been so afraid he would never get to do this again.  That Aramis was allowing him this close meant he at least had a chance.

“I know,” Aramis managed once he had calmed enough to speak.  He did not let go of Athos, though, holding the other man tightly to him.  

“But?” Athos said wanting to try to get to the bottom of which of their actions hurt him the most.  

“But it is hard for me to simply forget it… forget all that was said and done to me.  When you… yo-you called me a whore.  How much of that was simply one of the truths hidden within you that you never intended to let see the light of day?”

“None of it,” Athos choked.  “None of it, I swear.  

“I want to believe you.  I want to so badly.  You are… you mean so much to me.  To lose you because of this tears at my soul.”

“I am so very, very sorry, my love,” Athos said again, tears filling his eyes at the memory of what he had done.  “That I said such vile things to you… that I hurt you.  I would rather die than do you harm and yet I have done just that.”

“Athos, no,” Aramis said, shaking his head.  “You are not to blame here.”

“But you think I meant those horrid words I said.  At least in part.”

“That was my fear talking, brother.  I know… I know… you don’t really…”

“You do not need to lie to me, love.  I have broken the trust between us and you no longer believe the truth of my words.  I will earn that trust back again.  I swear I will.  Just as I swear to you now I meant none of what I said to you.  And I will keep telling you until you believe me once more.”

“It is the same for us,” Porthos ventured carefully.  “We love you.  That we hurt you as we did… that we broke every trust you had in us… Do you not know I would rather die than have you look upon me with such fear in your eyes?”

“It wasn’t your fault.  I shouldn’t hold your actions against you,” Aramis said yet again.  He was trying to believe that, trying so hard to believe that everything was caused by some dark influence but until he knew for certain he simply would not be able to.  

“I would give almost anything for you to truly mean those words,” Athos said sadly.  “But we all know you do not.”

“No.  I… Not yet,” Aramis said, trying to at least be honest with his brothers. 

“Have we lost you?” D’Artagnan asked, brokenly.  

“I am still here.  Does that not at least count for something?”

“It counts for everything,” d’Artagnan said firmly.  “But I do not think you can tell me that everything that was, still lives between us.  I think… I think some things are already dead and simply waiting to be buried.”

Aramis didn’t reply.  He cast saddened eyes toward Athos and found his equally upset.  What could he say to the young man that would not be an outright lie?  He could not tell him they would be fine, that everything that was between them would mend.  He could not because he could not even tell himself that, not with any certainty.  But seeing the raw pain in d’Artagnan’s eyes had twisted his heart in his chest.  

“He is still here,” Athos repeated.  “And he is our brother.  I have no doubt those bonds can be forged anew.”

Aramis gave Athos a grateful smile then took a fortifying breath.  He knew they had to talk about this, all of this, if they were to get past it.  If not, they would simply keep going round and round until everything collapsed.  They were dangerously close to that as it was.  

“I know we need to speak of this,” he began slowly.  “That I need to speak of this.  In truth, I… I… I do not even know where to start.  You have hurt me.  Mocked and ridiculed me.  You have… have… atta-attacked me even.  I know that you were being influenced by whatever still lies in that shed.  I know this thing.  Yet I still struggle to reconcile the men who swore their love to me with the men you have been these last weeks.”

“What can we do?” Porthos asked miserably.  “What can we do to prove to you that we did not mean those hateful words and deeds?  I love you, Aramis.  I love you more than life.  To know the things I did to you…”

“It is the same for me,” d’Artagnan said quietly.  “I know I have broken the bonds of trust that lay between us.  I know you will likely never forgive what I have done.  I just want you to know how very sorry I am.  I did not mean those things I said to you.  I did not mean to treat you in such a despicable manner.  Yet I have done so and no amount of apologizing will ever change that fact.”

“I… I do still love you both,” Aramis said softly, his eyes growing damp.  Porthos’ heart-felt pleas had made him ache but the finality of d’Artagnan’s words scared him.  “You are my brothers.  Nothing will ever change that.  Do you think… that is… could we… could we go back to just… just that for a time?”

“To just being brothers again?” Porthos asked, trying hard not to show how much the idea pained him.

“Yes,” Aramis nodded tentatively.  “I need time to… to get past this all and…”

“If that is your wish, then it is what you shall have,” d’Artagnan said.

“Agreed,” Porthos added the hesitated.  “I know it’s none of my business really but do you mean the same for you and Athos?”

“It will be the same for us,” Athos replied before Aramis could even begin to.

“Almost,” Aramis corrected.  “I… Please do not take this wrong as I have no wish to hurt you but… I trust him more.”

“That is only to be expected,” d’Artagnan said.  “He did not do the things we did.  I cannot speak for Porthos, but I am glad there is still one of us you feel you can trust after all of this.”

“I do trust you, d’Artagnan,” Aramis said quickly.  “I just… I need time.  Everything is still so raw.  I need time to let that heal and to do that, I need to… to simply be your brother again.”

“If that is what you need, then that is what you shall have,” Porthos said again.  “We will struggle with it, but that is not your concern.”

“You will always be my concern.”

“Not in this,” D’Artagnan said flatly.  “You have stated your wishes.  They will be respected.”

They spoke a bit longer before Aramis excused himself for the night.  He was exhausted, physically and emotionally.  He needed rest.  His spirit was weary and one of the wellspring he normally turned to in such times was the very thing sapping it.  It made his heart ache anew as he undressed for the night, his movements slow and careful in light of the lingering aches and pains he still suffered.

As he climbed into bed, the reality of what he just did slammed into him and he gasped aloud.  He felt his insides twist as tears stung his eyes.  He had just broken off his relationship with not one but all three of his lovers.  He had just told the men he loved most in the world that he no longer wished to be with them.  My God.  What had he done?  

Downstairs, the three men sat in silence, each trying to take in the fact that Aramis had left them.  Each tried to console himself with the knowledge that he was still his brother, but it was a difficult truth to accept.  They had never dreamed a day would come when Aramis would willingly forsake them as lovers, not completely, not like this.  But he had, and it was their own fault no less.

“At least he still trusts you,” d’Artagnan said wearily.

“Yeah,” Porthos agrees.  “He’s still got one of us he can turn to.  Even if it’s just a little bit.”

“I’m sorry,” Athos said, feeling suddenly guilty that Aramis should trust him above the others.

“Don’t,” Porthos told him.  “I’m glad he’s still got someone.  And I’m glad it’s you.  Just… just be there for him.  That’s the only thing I ask of you, brother.”

Athos sighed and nodded.  “Come on,” he said, rising.  “Let’s go upstairs.  I believe the three of us need to talk and I would rather not chance Aramis walking in on our discussion.”

“What of?” D’Artagnan asked as he rose to follow.

“Of what all Aramis has been enduring these past few days,” Athos said flatly.

Neither Porthos nor d’Artagnan said a word as they followed him up the stairs and into the master bedroom.  It would seem the time for their reckoning had finally come round.

“It is not an execution, brother.  You need not look as though it is,” Athos said.

“Is it not?” Porthos countered as they entered the room, closing the door firmly behind them.

“No,” Athos replied.  “No matter what you have to tell me, we shall get through it.  All of us.  Together.  It is how we have managed to get through every dark thing that has befallen us.  Our brotherhood will not let us falter.”

“You may not think that after you hear what I have to say,” Porthos said, the fear inside making him queasy.  He sat down on the bed and leaned back against the far wall, making room for the others.  D’Artagnan followed suit, leaving Athos to perch on the edge of the bed facing his brothers.  

“I do not mean it to seem as though I sit in judgment of you,” Athos frowned, unhappy with how they had ended up positioned.

“You should,” d’Artagnan said.  “We deserve it.”

“You seem to forget, I turned on him as well.  I was as vicious as a rabid dog.  I have no right to sit in judgement of your actions.”

“You don’t understand,” Porthos shook his head gruffly.  “We… I was going at him for days.  You knew I was coming down on him for every little thing, but it was more than that.”

“Tell me the worst of it,” Athos said.  “What happened the day I sent him on patrol with you?”

“He was nervous,” Porthos began.  “That morning, but he was happy, too.  I came down on him for it.  Said he was acting like a dandy rather than a Musketeer.  I even shoved him.”

“I was no better,” d’Artagnan added.  “I sneered at him as well.  And at the Court.  I…”

“What?” Athos asked when d’Artagnan hesitated.

“I called him Little One.  In public.  He was talking to some little girl, was going to walk her home.  When I said it, everyone laughed.  They thought I was referring to the child.  Porthos, of course, knew otherwise.  The look on his face…. I don’t think I’ll ever forget it.”

“That wasn’t the only time, either,” D’Artagnan continued. “That time he snapped back at Porthos, when you two left us alone in the kitchen, I slammed him into the wall and told him never to talk to Porthos like that again. I… I made him call me Master. Told him to call me that from then on.” D’Artagnan looked down then, unable to meet Athos’ piercing gaze any longer. He could remember the look of disbelief in Aramis’ eyes and the way it had morphed into fear. 

“It wasn’t long after that Aramis caught sight of one of the kidnappers,” Porthos said, breaking d’Artagnan out of his thoughts.  “We chased them through the alleys until we hit that dead end.  I still don’t know where all those… those dogs and rats came from.  I swear, Athos, they came out of nowhere.  And their eyes… they glowed.”

“If I had to guess, I would say they were likely set upon you by whatever has been influencing us these past days,” Athos said.  “If it could influence us all to such a degree, I do not see why it would not be able to influence other things.”

“That would explain why they seemed to concentrate on Aramis,” d’Artagnan remarked. 

Athos nodded, making a note in the back of his mind to make sure to mention the attack in the alley to Michel.  It might mean nothing, but Athos had no idea what could be a potential clue and wanted to give the priest as much information about this thing as possible. 

“Did anything else happen after the attack in the alley?” Athos asked.

“No,” d’Artagnan said.

“Yes,” Porthos countered, swallowing thickly.

“What did you do?” Athos asked, his voice clipped and tight as he fought to hold on to his temper.  He had not known his brothers were still tormenting Aramis so relentlessly.  On top of that, he knew he had not heard all of it, only a generalization.  Porthos had told him the worst of it, not all the little things that had led up to it.  And now there was yet more.

“That… that night,” Porthos began hesitantly.  “We were in bed… Please, Athos, I don’t want to tell you.  I can’t lose you, too.  You and the Whelp, you’re all I got left.”

“Porthos, brother, listen to me,” Athos said, keeping as strong a hold on his temper as he could.  “Whatever you say, as angry as it is apt to make me, and I have no doubt that it will, it will not drive me from you.  It will not cause you to lose me.  You are my brother and I love you.  Nothing will change that.  But we cannot heal from this wound until we treat it.  Now tell me what you did.”

“We were in bed, like I said,” Porthos said again, encouraged by Athos’ words.  “I woke up to the feel of him stroking me.  At least I thought it was him.  I’m… I’m not so sure now.  It made me angry.  Real angry.  I thought if he wanted to play that I’d… I’d teach him a lesson…”

“What kind of lesson?” Athos asked.

“I jerked him across my lap,” Porthos forced himself to go on.  “He didn’t realize… he thought I was just fooling around… until I started talking down to him.”

“Down to him?” D’Artagnan asked.  He was growing more horrified with every word Porthos spoke.  While he agreed with Athos that whatever Porthos said would not change things between them, he was still terrified of hearing it.  

“Telling him what a slut he was, only mean like.  He started to realize then that I wasn’t playing, that something was wrong.  He told me to let him go, but…”

“But you didn’t,” Athos finished for him.

“No,” Porthos shook his head.  “No, I didn’t.  I told him if he kept kicking up a fuss I’d make his boy pay for it.  He didn’t fight me anymore then.”

“What didn’t he fight, Porthos?”

“The beating I gave him,” Porthos replied brokenly.  “I beat him until my hand was numb.  Then I… I forced him… I forced him to… to use his mouth on me.”

When Porthos finished his tale the only sound in the room was that of Athos’ deep, labored breathing as he struggled to hold on to his rage.  He had sworn to Porthos that this would not drive him away and he would not allow it to but right now he was sorely tempted to thrash the man.  Him and d’Artagnan both if he was honest.  

“You beat and raped my lover?  Is that what you are telling me, Porthos?  Is it?” Athos asked, his voice like ice.

“Yes,” came the choked reply.  Porthos stared down at the bed, unable to look at Athos, too afraid of what he might see.  

Athos stared at Porthos bent head.  He looked at d’Artagnan and saw that he was equally stunned.  Looking back at Porthos, he saw the big man start to shake and knew he was imagining all the ways Athos might end their brotherhood.  

“I do not have the words,” Athos said after long minutes.  He knew it was Aramis they had hurt, Aramis they had taunted and ridiculed, yet he could not help but feel betrayed as well.  “Not for either of you.  The truth is… the truth is…  I _trusted_ you!  Both of you!  How could you do this?  And to him of all people?  He has loved you and protected you.  He very nearly sold his own soul for the both of you and _this_ … this is how you repay him?”

In the other bedroom, Aramis started as the sound of Athos’ angry voice carried across the hall. He sat up in bed, scrubbing the back of his hand over his damp eyes as his heart began to pound. He had not meant to make them angry. Not again. 

Shaking, he threw back the blanket and rose on trembling legs. He would… would fix breakfast, that’s what he would do. He would have breakfast ready and waiting for them. He would show them that he was still good for something, that he could still be useful. 

He nearly slipped in his haste going down the stairs, catching himself at the last minute and banging into the wall with a painful thud. He was so intent on his destination that he did not notice the voices upstairs suddenly fall silent. He was opening and closing cupboards, pulling out bowls and piling them onto the counter when the sound of d’Artagnan’s voice made him jump.

“Aramis?” D’Artagnan called out carefully from the doorway between the sitting room and the kitchen. They had heard him on the stairs and d’Artagnan had hurried to see what had happened. He had not expected to find the other man in the kitchen hell bent on cooking of all things. “What’s going on?”

“I… I am making breakfast,” Aramis said, not stopping his work, more nervous than ever now. 

D’Artagnan frowned and started to say something when the bite mark on Aramis’ neck caught his eye. He drew in a breath at the sight of the angry, red wound and moved toward the man without thinking, bent on on making sure it had been tended to. D’Artagnan had no more than laid his hand on Aramis’ shoulder before the man jerked back from him, his eyes going wide as he backed himself against the kitchen counter.

D’Artagnan tried not to show how badly Aramis’ reaction hurt. For the man to shrink from his very touch tore at him yet he had no one save himself to blame for it. He had done this and now he would pay the price for it. 

“I’m sorry,” d’Artagnan said, holding his hand up and backing away. “I’ll… I’ll go get Athos.”

D’Artagnan didn’t have to go far. Athos and Porthos were both on the stairs, listening worriedly. The raw pain in d’Artagnan’s eyes went a long way toward cooling Athos’ ire. He knew it would erupt again, but for now he was more concerned than angry. 

“What’s going on?” Porthos whispered. 

“I think he heard us fighting,” d’Artagnan shrugged, pitching his voice low so Aramis would not hear them.

“I did not mean for my voice to carry so far,” Athos sighed. “Perhaps we should just let him be…”

“No,” d’Artagnan shook his head. “His shoulder. Where you bit him. It needs to be tended. I don’t think he’s done anything to it. It doesn’t look good but he won’t let me touch him.”

It was Athos’ turn to look away guiltily. The reminder of what he had done to Aramis still hurt more than any blow ever had and likely would for a very long time to come. In truth, Athos did not think he would ever get over the knowledge that he had done something so heinous to the man, otherworldly influence be damned.

“Athos, 'twas a single wound,” Porthos said, his voice still quiet but firm. “One that pales in comparison to all that he and I did to him, with our fists and otherwise. He needs you now. You need to be strong for him. You’re the only one of us he’ll let close.”

“Porthos is right,” d’Artagnan agreed. “What you did is nothing next to us, but regardless it is irrelevant because Aramis, he still trusts you. That is the only thing that matters. He still trusts you and he’s in there and he’s scared and he needs you.”

Athos looked at the two men and nodded. “Go back upstairs,” he told them. “I’ll get his shoulder seen to and try to get him calmed down again. Try to get some rest.”

Athos waited until the pair had disappeared up the stairs before entering the kitchen. He stopped just inside the doorway, not wanting to make the mistake of crowding Aramis too soon. He may still trust him to a degree, but he did not trust him as he did before and Athos was well aware of that. He needed to move cautiously if he was not to lose what little ground he still had.

“Aramis?” Athos called out softly, doing his best not to startle the man. Aramis started, but only a little so Athos took that as an encouraging sign. “What is wrong, brother?”

“Nothing,” Aramis said, continuing to work.

“I do not think that is entirely true,” Athos said. “May I come in?” He had remained in the doorway, not coming any closer, not entering the room. He wanted Aramis to invite him forward rather than encroaching on the space he was in. 

“Of course,” Aramis replied quickly. “'Tis your home as much as mine.”

“I do not wish to crowd you,” Athos said from the doorway. “If you do not want me to come in, then I will not.”

“I do not mind if you come in,” Aramis said softly. He glanced up quickly to make sure it was just Athos and not the others and let out a relieved breath when he saw that the man was alone. 

Athos moved out of the doorway and into the room one careful step at a time. Aramis was as spooked as a hare in a wolves’ den. One wrong move could send him running again. That would do none of them any good. Aramis was exhausted. He needed rest, but for that Athos had to get to the root of this.

“Thank you,” Athos said, moving closer but still keeping some distance between them. With Aramis in nothing but his smalls, it was easy to see the bite mark, angry and red, on his neck. Athos tried not to wince at the sight of it. Now was not the time for guilt. 

“What are you making?” Athos asked after a few moments had passed.

“Ah, breakfast,” Aramis replied. 

“It is still some time before morning,” Athos pointed out.

“Oh yes, but… well… I just… that is… I am… still useful. Around here, that is,” Aramis managed haltingly.

“You have always been useful, brother. Everywhere you go. Here is no exception,” Athos told him. “I am sorry if we disturbed your sleep. I know our words grew heated. I did not mean to raise my voice like that.”

“I’m sorry,” Aramis said, Athos’ words reawakening the panic within him. “I didn’t mean to upset anyone. Please don’t be mad.”

“Aramis,” Athos said, the combination of affection and worry in his voice clear. He took a chance and moved closer then, taking the bowl from Aramis’ slightly shaking hands and setting it on the table. “You did no wrong. I was not angry with you. I am sorry that my anger upset you. I never meant for that.”

“Athos…”

“You are exhausted, love. Let me help you back upstairs. I can see to your neck and get you back into bed. We shall worry about breakfast in the morning.”

“My neck?”

“The bite,” Athos explained, flushing guiltily. “It does not look as though it has been seen to at all.”

“Oh, I, ah… I forgot, I think…”

“Understandable, all things considered. But I really think someone should tend to it. I will understand if you would rather do so yourself.”

“No,” Aramis said quickly. “I would rather you. If you do not mind.”

“I never mind taking care of you, Aramis. Not in any manner,” Athos told him. “Come. Leave this for now. We can worry about breakfast come morning.”

Aramis hesitated for a moment longer then did as Athos bade. He let his brother lead him back up to the spare bedroom and sit him down on the side of the bed. He was quiet as Athos went about tending to the bite on his neck, only speaking when Athos asked him questions. Once the wound had been seen to, he allowed Athos to maneuver him into bed and was surprised when the man covered him up and placed a kiss on his forehead.

“You are not staying?” Aramis asked.

“No,” Athos replied, smiling a bit sadly. “You do not wish me here. I will be nearby, as will the others. If you have need of me, you have but to call out. Now try to get some rest. I will see you in the morning.”


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Snow_Glory for the endless hand holding on this.

When Aramis awoke the next morning, the sun was not yet up. He wasn’t surprised. He had grown accustomed to waking before his brothers so that he could have their morning meal prepared by the time they rose. He understood, on an intellectual level, that it was no longer necessary, but his mind and his instincts were not yet in harmony. Until they were, he would err on the side of caution. 

Getting out of bed, he had to stifle a groan, his sore stomach protesting the movement. Porthos hadn’t held back and Aramis didn’t have to look to know that his entire abdomen was still black and blue from the man’s blow. He dressed as quickly as he could, biting back another hiss of pain when he slipped on his shirt. Even bandaged, the bite on his shoulder had started to throb dully. He would need to check it to make sure it did not show any sign of infection. That was the very last thing they needed right now. By the time he had finished dressing, even his face had begun to hurt and he did his best not to look toward the mirror. He was started to feel ill from the onslaught of physical reminders of what had happened, he didn’t need to come face to face with it as well. 

He unbolted the bedroom door, opening it as quietly as possible, not wanting to disturb anyone. Last night had been difficult on all of them. He was not so petty as to begrudge his brothers their rest. When he opened the door to head downstairs, however, he could not stop himself from crying out loudly as he stumbled forward tripping over Athos’ unexpected bulk. 

“What is it?” Athos said, rolling to the side and coming to rest in a crouch, his hand going to his back only for him to remember that his dagger was downstairs with the rest of his weapons.

“What are you doing here?” Aramis asked, his voice coming out high and shrill as his heart tried to crawl up his throat.

“I’m sorry,” Athos said, rising slowly and holding his hands out in front of him as unthreateningly as possible. “I only meant to be near in case you had need of me. I did not mean to frighten you.”

“You… you slept here? All night?” Aramis asked, stunned.

Athos shrugged and looked away for a moment before turning back to face him. “I could not bear to be so far away,” he admitted, flushing slightly. The sight of Aramis’ face covered in bruises made his stomach roil. “I’m sorry if I overstepped myself. I will not…”

“No,” Aramis said quickly. “It is not… I do not mind. Though I would not have you sleep on the floor, love.” Aramis saw Athos go still and realized what he said. He felt his own face heat and ducked his head shyly. Only Athos had ever been able to make him feel like this, like a boy experiencing his first taste of… everything. 

“Is everything okay?” d’Artagnan asked from the open doorway of the master bedroom. He and Porthos had heard the commotion in the hall and had hurried to the door. Seeing that Aramis was in no danger, they had not ventured any farther.

“My apologies,” Aramis said quickly as he took a step back toward the stairs. “I did not mean to disturb you.”

“No harm done,” Porthos said, the words coming out strangled. Like Athos, the sight of Aramis covered in bruises was nearly enough to send him to his knees, especially when it was he himself that had put them there. 

“Yes, well, if you’ll excuse me I’ll go and start on breakfast.”

They watched him go, each of them aching to go with him yet all three knowing they would not be welcome. They had hoped that a night of rest might ease some of Aramis’ fear of them but that was clearly not the case. Not that they could blame him. They merited every bit of his wariness and more. That he was allowing them this close was more than they deserved and they knew it.

“Me and the Whelp are gonna head into the garrison,” Porthos told Athos as they stood in the hallway. “Give Treville an update and get back to work on finding those kidnappers. We’ll let him know it might be a few days before you and Aramis make it in.”

“You do not have to do that,” Athos told him. “Treville has given us all some time.”

“Be best that way,” d’Artagnan said. “He’s not comfortable with us around. He shouldn’t be forced to endure our presence any more than he has to.”

“He is not enduring your presence, d’Artagnan,” Athos said with a frown.

“Yes, he is. Besides, Porthos is right. We need to find those kidnappers before anyone else goes missing.”

Athos sighed. They did have a point and moping around here all day would do neither Porthos nor d’Artagnan any good. Not to mention how guilty it would make Aramis feel to see the effect his distance was having on his brothers. “Very well,” Athos relented. “But be careful. Aramis would not take it well if either of you were hurt.”

They took their time getting dressed, giving Aramis his space. When they finally entered the kitchen, Athos led the way with Porthos and d’Artagnan hanging back. As much as they wanted to be with the other man, if Aramis was uncomfortable with their presence they would not crowd him. 

“Oh, um, breakfast is almost ready,” Aramis said when he noticed their entrance. He cast a glance at Athos when he saw how their brothers hung back.

“They know their proximity causes you distress,” Athos offered, going for honesty. 

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Aramis scoffed, though they could all tell it was forced. 

“You need not pretend with us,” Athos told him. “We understand.”

“You are not the one who needs to make the effort here, Aramis,” d’Artagnan said softly. “It is us. We know this. We simply struggle with how to do so in a manner that will not cause you further distress. If we keep our distance, it is out of respect for you and because to hurt your again would surely end us.”

“You are still my brothers, d’Artagnan,” Aramis said. “Both of you. I would not have you… have you gone from my side. Not for anything. We shall find our way through this. I promise, we shall.”

“You are right, we shall,” Porthos said as he slowly moved into the room and sat down at the table. “Though I fear the journey shall be an arduous one.”

“When has our life been anything but?” Aramis remarked, chuckling softly, though at least this time it was less forced.

After that, breakfast passed without too much tension. Aramis was not pleased when Porthos and d’Artagnan made to leave for the garrison, though. “We need to get back after those kidnappers before we lose the trail altogether,” Porthos reasoned.

“And you do not need us under foot all day,” d’Artagnan added. 

“Very well,” Aramis relented. They were right, both of them. The investigation needed to continue and he truly did not know if he could handle having them here in the house with him all day. “Promise me you will be careful, both of you?”

“Of course,” Porthos said at once, surprised by the concern in Aramis’ words. It helped to ease some of the ever-present fear within him to know the man still worried for his safety. “We’ll be back in time for supper. We promise.”

Aramis nodded and walked into the sitting room, leaving Athos alone with the other two. He advised them to warn Treville to keep the men clear of the shed until they could figure out how best to deal with it. He also told them they might want to recommend he keep Constance away as well, just until everything was taken care of. Aramis would never forgive himself if something happened to her because of all this.

“That was kind of you,” Athos said when he walked into the sitting room. Aramis was seated on one end of the sofa so Athos took the other. It put him close to the man but still left some small distance between them. If Aramis wanted him closer, he would be the one to tell him so. Too many errors had been made already. Athos was not going to risk making another one.

“They are my brothers,” Aramis shrugged. He was glad Athos had joined him on the sofa though the distance between them felt wrong somehow. He supposed he could understand it. He had not exactly behaved in a manner inviting of intimacy, harmless or otherwise. Still, the distance between them, no more than a foot or so in reality, made him ache inside from more than just the blows he had taken and he found his hand reaching toward the other man without thought.

Athos saw Aramis reaching for him and took his hand at once. He moved closer then, closing the distance between them until their shoulders barely brushed. Even as he moved closer, Aramis’ grip never slackened. He held onto Athos’ hand as if it were a lifeline and Athos returned that grip with equal force. 

“I am here,” he said softly. “In whatever way you wish me to be. I love you so much, Aramis.”

“I remember what I said you know, when such evil had me in its grip,” Aramis began carefully. “They were horrible, hateful things. Yet, at the heart of each of them there was a kernel of truth.”

“No,” Athos shook his head, refusing to remain quiet. “Perhaps for some of them that was the case, but not all. Or are you telling me there was some truth to your words when you told Porthos you regretted our relationship?”

“No, Athos. Never,” Aramis said, aghast at the very thought.

“Then believe me when I say there was no truth in the words I spoke. At least not the ones that mattered,” Athos admitted. “When you first came back into my office, I was furious at your disobedience. My rage may have been fueled by whatever lies in that shed, but my anger at your disobedience was my own.”

Aramis nodded, understanding what Athos was trying to say. He had been annoyed by what he saw as blatant disrespect for his position as Captain, but his reaction had been fueled by the evil influencing him. “And the rest?” Aramis forced himself to ask though he feared the answer. “When you said I was no more than your whore. Was there some kernel of truth in that as well, my Athos? I cannot blame you really. I know how…”

“No,” Athos said, his voice firm to the point of anger. “There was no truth to those words. I have never thought such a thing of you. You are not… not some possession to be passed around among us, to be used until we grow bored of you then cast aside.”

Aramis shrank back at the anger in Athos’ voice. He felt his panic reawaken and his eyes quickly darted about the room for the closest way out. The fact that he was unarmed, was barely even dressed, ran through his head and he berated himself for his stupidity. Suddenly, Aramis felt hands grasp his arms and he shouted as he tried to jerk away, pain flaring to life at the sudden movement.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” Athos said softly as he ran his hands up and down the man’s arms trying to calm him. “I did not mean to act so. It is not you I am upset with, Aramis. It is myself. I’m so sorry. Please, love.”

It took a little while but Athos’ soft words finally began to get through to him and Aramis started to calm. He flushed in embarrassment at having behaved in such a manner. It was no wonder his brothers thought him a helpless maiden. He certainly acted the part more often than not.

“Stop that,” Athos admonished gently, knowing his lover was berating himself for his reaction. “The fault was mine. I should not have grown so upset. It was not you, though. It was that I have made you think such a thing that shames me. I love you. I have loved you for years. To know that I have made you question that, question your very worth in my eyes. My God! I would rather die than live with such a thing.”

“Athos, no,” Aramis said, appalled at his words. Without thought, he pulled Athos into his arms and held him close. “Do not even speak of such things. Do you not understand how very much I love you? This, all of this, would not be so painful if that was not so.”

“I didn’t hurt you again, did I?” Athos asked worriedly. He had seen Aramis flinch and known it was from more than just fright. He could tell he was still hurting from how carefully he held himself but he knew he would not complain. It would only serve to worsen their guilt and Aramis would never willfully do such a thing.

“No,” Aramis shook his head, smiling softly at Athos. The open concern on his face eased him in a way that little else could. Aramis knew, were it anyone but Athos, it would not have near the effect on him. Athos’ genuine concern had always been able to disarm him.

“Are you sure?” Athos pressed. “I know you are still in some pain.”

“Perhaps a little,” Aramis admitted. “But it is not overly much. And it is less than it was. I do need to check the wound on my shoulder, though. It… it pained me when I was dressing. I need to make sure the wound is not becoming infected.”

“Of course. I’ll get your kit,” Athos said getting to his feet and hurrying up the stairs before Aramis could stop him. He returned a few moments later and laid the kit out next to the other man. “What else do you need?”

“Just some towels and water,” Aramis replied. “But I can get them.”

“I don’t mind,” Athos said. “Unless… that is… would you rather I not help you?”

“I always wish your help, my Athos. Always.”

“Aramis…”

“I need towels and some warm water, please.” 

In the end, the wound, while red and angry looking, did not show any signs of infection. It was warmer to the touch than Aramis would have preferred, though, and he made a note to keep an eye on it. If it was still paining him come evening, he would see about making a salve for it. He thought he had everything on hand that he needed. For now, he simply put a fresh bandage on it and allowed Athos to help him back into his shirt.

They stayed like that, together in the sitting room, for the rest of the morning. At one point Aramis had risen to get his Bible from the mantle. He had paused when he saw the collar and ring he had cast off lying there as well. The sight of them set off a flurry of conflicting emotions and he quickly grabbed his Bible and returned to Athos on the sofa. 

“I can remove them if the sight of them there upsets you,” Athos said once Aramis had rejoined him. He had seen the man tense when he spotted them and he could feel the slight tremor running through him as their shoulders pressed together lightly.

“No,” Aramis shook his head. “I just…”

“What?”

“I know it hurt them to see that I had taken them off. I don’t… don’t mean to be… be…”

“Aramis, stop,” Athos said, mindful to keep his voice gentle still. He turned toward him and took the Bible from his hands, laying it on the seat behind him. Aramis’ hands now free, Athos took them in his own and held them. “They know you did not remove them to be spiteful or cruel or whatever else it is you are thinking. They know you took them off because… well, because you simply could not bear the thought of wearing them after everything. We, all of us, know the damage we have wrought. We know that where there was once utter devotion and unshakeable trust, now…”

“Athos?” Aramis whispered. He had watched his brother’s eyes grow wet as he spoke, his hands tightening on his own. 

“Now all that remain are fear and pain and betrayal,” Athos forced himself to finish. He looked down at their joined hands and took a shuddering breath. “I know I was speaking about all of us but truly, right now the only thing I care about is what might still lay between you and I. It must seem horribly selfish of me.”

“No,” Aramis said quickly. “It isn’t selfish. Or maybe it is. Either way, it does not matter because right now that is all I care about as well. Even tainted as they were by the horrors of the ruins, those memories of us are the sweetest I have ever known.”

Athos felt his heart pound in his chest. That Aramis could still find it within himself to say such a thing after all he had done amazed him. He wanted to reach out and kiss the man so badly, but he had not earned back that right yet. Instead, he slowly lifted their joined hands and placed a single kiss to each one. 

“You are my life,” Athos moaned softly. “I know I never gave you any token. Not like the others.”

“You never needed to. What need have I of a token when you have already given me your heart?”

It was close to noon-time and the pair had not left the sitting room. Athos sat at one end of the sofa, Aramis’ head resting in his lap quietly reading some of his favorite passages to him from his Bible. He knew Athos did not have his faith, but he listened, asking questions here and there and encouraging him to share this part of himself. 

It was during that time when a knock at the door interrupted them. Both men froze and Aramis warily sat up and laid his Bible aside as Athos stood and took the musket from the table next to the sofa. They had learned their lesson about keeping all their weapons in one place and now had them secreted in each room of the house. It was on the tip of his tongue to tell Aramis to wait there but he kept quiet. Attempting to shelter Aramis was one of the things that had led to all of this. He would not make that mistake again either. 

Opening the door, Athos was surprised to find Father Michel on their doorstep. Chagrined, he realized he should not have been. Of course the man would come to check on how Aramis was fairing, if he was still alright, if those he trusted most had not turned on him once more. 

“Michel, come in,” Athos said, stepping aside to allow the priest room to enter. 

“Good afternoon, Athos. Aramis,” Michel greeted. “I was not sure if you would be at home or at the garrison but thought I would stop by.”

“You are always welcome here, Michel,” Athos told him. “And thank you again for sheltering him when he was in need. That he has someone to go to, it is a very great relief.”

“Aramis will always find sanctuary within Saint Severin. Always. But that is not the reason for my visit today,” Michel said. “At least not the entire reason.”

“Michel?” Aramis asked.

“Why don’t we all sit down?” Athos suggested and gestured to the kitchen table. “As you can see, Father, Aramis is well. We have done him no further harm.”

“Yes,” Michel agreed. “And while the church will ever be a sanctuary for him, his home should be as well.”

“You have a suggestion of some sort?” Aramis asked, his eagerness clear. He desperately wanted some way to ensure that whatever evil was in that shed, whatever evil had influenced his brothers, could not get to him here ever again.

“I would suggest blessing the house,” Michel said. “Every room. Then nailing crosses over each of the doors. That should stop the evil from entering here.”

“Will it be enough to stop anyone being influence as we were?” Athos asked.

“While I cannot say for certain, I believe so, yes,” Michel replied.

“Then what do we need to do?” Athos asked.

Michel had come prepared and room by room they blessed the house. Michel spent a significantly longer time blessing the bedrooms, providing a haven within a haven, as it were. He did not think it necessary, not for anything other than Aramis’ own peace of mind. But that was reason enough for him. Finally, they nailed blessed crosses on the front and back doors before returning to the kitchen.

Sitting down at the table once more, Athos poured them all a mug of wine and they simply rested for a while regaining their strength. “And now, my friend, there are things we must speak of,” Michel said reluctantly.

Aramis paled and looked down at his hands. He did not want to speak of this. Not again and certainly not here. Words had power, after all, and Aramis feared the darkness that lay within the shed had grown quite powerful already.

“Tell me of the shed, Aramis,” Michel said as he reached out and covered Aramis’ hands with his own. “Tell me everything you can of it, from the first moment of its use to what you felt the other day.”

Aramis looked back and forth between the two men. He saw the earnestness on their faces, the belief, and it strengthened him. There was no disdain, no mockery. These men believed him, believed in him, and they would stand by him come what may.

Letting that knowledge bolster him, Aramis began. He told of his first experiments there and what had caused him to have Treville lock the shed down in the first place. He flushed in embarrassment when he admitted to simply forgetting about the place until Athos had ordered him to dismantle it. 

“That was most likely due to whatever has been growing inside of it,” Michel said. At Aramis’ skeptical look, he continued. “What you brought back, I do not believe that trace of evil was strong enough to do anything, not on its own. But over time, it grew, as all livings things do. And as it grew, it was smart enough to protect itself. It knew Treville would likely do nothing without your direction so you were its only target. All it needed to do was keep you blind to it. Misdirection is one of the first tactics things such as this employ.”

“But it was right there,” Aramis argued. “I should have seen it. I should have…”

“It did not allow you to,” Michel told him again. “Evil such as this, it is old and cunning. Above all else, it knows how to survive. Most likely, whenever you came close it did something to pull your attention away from it. It would not have needed to be much. A shout. A barking dog. A breeze catching your hat. _Anything_.”

“And we certainly did not help matters any,” Athos added.

“None of that matters now,” Aramis said, pushing that aside for the time being. He was dealing with as much as he could handle at the moment as it was. “What matters is destroying whatever is in that thing so it cannot harm anyone else.”

“Agreed,” Michel said. “But until we know exactly what we are dealing with I am unsure how best to proceed.”

“It has to do with Bathory, we know that much,” Aramis said. “Bathory and La Oscuridad, I believe.”

“Then that is a place to start,” Michel replied. “We know she relied on blood rituals for much of her power and traces of blood are what have managed to survive in that shed. I will see what I can find out, about her and this Darkness. In the meantime, I would recommend keeping your distance, especially you, Aramis.”

“Why me?”

“Because you are the one it wants,” Michel said. “Or at least the one it wants revenge upon. You are, after all, the one responsible for the Bathory woman’s death. If her demise came this close to destroying it, well, I imagine it would be most angry about that.”

“But d’Artagnan is the one who killed her,” Athos said. He immediately wanted to pull the words back again. It was bad enough that this thing was targeting Aramis. They didn’t need to give it yet another to focus on.

“I doubt that matters,” Michel said. “Not to it. Aramis was her chosen and Aramis defied her, destroying her in the process. That he did not do so alone is largely irrelevant as humans usually are to evil such as this.”

“Tell me the truth, Michel, can we destroy this thing?” Aramis asked, his voice tinged with desperation. He remembered all too well what it felt like to be ridden by that thing, to be little more than its puppet as it festered and grew inside of him, eating his soul bit by bit. He would sooner die than suffer such a fate. Yet to flee, to turn his back and run like a coward, would leave countless others to suffer in his place. How was he to live with that?

“Aramis,” Michel said firmly, pulling him out of his thoughts. “God is with us. He has not left us and He will not. He was with you when you and your brothers defeated Bathory. He will be with you when you send this evil back to Hell where it belongs. Do no lose faith now, my son.”

Michel stayed a bit longer, talking of more cheerful things, most significantly the orphanage being added to the church. Aramis had brightened considerably at the mention of children taking up residence there and promised Michel he would stop by regularly to help however he could.

When the afternoon began to grow late, Michel rose from the table and made to leave. “Athos, would you mind seeing me out?” he asked. He saw Aramis look up at him in alarm and gently patted his shoulder before following Athos to the door.

“You wished a word with me I take it?” Athos said once they were alone.

“Yes,” Michel replied succinctly. “Whatever this evil is, it will not stop until it has destroyed him utterly, in body, mind or soul. You must be vigilant. All of you. This guilt you feel, I understand it, but it does him no favor. Nothing can be allowed to drive a wedge between you, not now.”

“Michel, it is not as easy as that,” Athos shook his head.

“Bah! Who said anything about easy?” Michel scoffed. 

“He is afraid of us,” Athos insisted.

“As he has every right to be,” Michel agreed. “And still, you cannot allow that to drive you apart. It is what this thing wanted from the beginning. To separate you, to drive him from those who would protect him. I know what I am saying, Athos. I know it will be difficult, for him as well as you. But if you do not find a way to do so, if you do not find a way to come together again, then you will lose him and in a way much more horrific than you could possibly conceive of.”

&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M

“Gentlemen, I didn’t expect to see the two of you today,” Treville said when Porthos and d’Artagnan entered his office.

“Yes, Sir,” Porthos said then began to fidget, unsure how to go about explaining all that had gone on.

“May we sit down, Sir?” d’Artagnan asked. “This might take a bit.”

They ended up leaving out a great deal, most notably their treatment of Aramis that culminated in their combined attack. D’Artagnan had started to tell him, but shame had sealed the words in his throat. They had warned him about the shed, though, cautioning him to keep the men as far from it as possible.

“Does Aramis really think something is… what? Alive and growing in there?” Treville asked doubtfully.

“Yes,” Porthos said. “And if you’d seen him, you would, too. He said to keep Constance away from the garrison, as well.”

“Well, he is serious then,” Treville said, running a hand through his hair wearily. “I’ll make sure the men keep their distance. But I won’t be able to keep them away from it forever.”

“We know, Sir,” d’Artagnan said. “Just give us some time to figure out what to do. I don’t think we can afford to be wrong. Not again.”

With Treville up to date, the pair headed back out into the city to follow up on their kidnapping investigation. Treville had been wary of their involvement, the same as Athos had, but he had allowed them to continue. He had cautioned them to be as circumspect as possible, though, reminding them that the Cardinal’s reach was long and he would find no greater pleasure than ridding Paris of those less fortunate than himself. They had promised the Captain they would be on their guard but they could not walk away from this. No matter what else was going on, the people in the Court were depending on them. 

Throwing themselves into their work, they tried not to think about the two men absent from their sides. It was hard not to, though. While they had adjusted to Athos filling in for Treville, now that the Captain was back, the man’s absence was like a missing tooth that the tongue constantly sought only to be reminded yet again that it was gone. What made it even worse was the knowledge that even if Athos was not with Aramis he likely still would not be with them, his own anger too great to risk being near them. 

It was no secret that their brother had a temper. The recruits could all attest to that. Over their years together, they had all made Athos angry to one degree or another, many times violently so. Porthos recalled one memorable occasion where Athos had hurled a full bottle of wine at him. The look on his face when he realized that he had just wasted an entire bottle of wine had been priceless. In all that time, however, none of them had ever managed to anger him to the point of actual fear. None of them had ever managed to enrage their brother to the point where he would not walk by their side. 

Until now.

Working their way from the merchant district back toward the Court, Porthos tried to force his melancholy thoughts away. They were not helping him, not find the men they were looking for or anything else. But one look at Aramis’ bruised face this morning had brought back every horrific memory of what he had done. Athos was right. He had beaten and raped the man’s lover. How was Athos supposed to look past that? How were any of them? Athos had promised him that what he had done would not drive them apart. Yet Porthos was not altogether sure he believed that. In truth, he wasn’t sure if he even should. What right did he have to such hope? What right did he have to any of this? 

As lost in his thoughts as Porthos was, d’Artagnan was almost equally so. He could tell that everything that had happened of late was weighing heavily on Porthos yet he didn’t know what to do to help him. Not when the same things weighed just as heavily on him. Seeing him this morning, seeing the evidence of their abuse right in front of his face, had made him want to find the smallest, darkest hole he could and curl up in it until the world simply ceased to exist. He barely managed to suppress a shudder as he recalled the way Aramis had recoiled from him in the kitchen the night before. It had been no more than the touch of his hand upon his shoulder yet he had jerked away as if scalded. D’Artagnan had never felt like more of a monster in his life than he did in that very moment. And it was in that moment that he truly understood just how much he had lost. 

The sun was hanging low in the sky when d’Artagnan finally shook himself out of his thoughts and pulled Porthos to a halt. “Enough, brother,” he said softly. “The day grows late. We will not find out anything else tonight. It’s time to go home.”

“Yeah, alright,” Porthos relented. He knew the Whelp was right but he didn’t want to return home. Not yet. He wasn’t ready to go back to dancing around Aramis, trying to be close but not too close. Trying to ignore the look of fear in his eyes. Or the look of anger in Athos’. Porthos didn’t think he could take it. 

“Porthos? What is it?” d’Artagnan asked when the other man suddenly came to a halt.

“Go on ahead, Whelp. I won’t be long. I just need to make a quick stop,” Porthos hedged.

D’Artagnan narrowed his eyes, appraising the other man. He saw the nervous way Porthos stood but, more than that, he saw the weariness that clung to the man’s shoulders like a cloak. Whatever his errand, real or feigned, his brother obviously wanted a few minutes to himself before returning home. D’Artagnan would not deny him that.

“Do as you need,” he said. “I’ll let you the others know you’ll be along shortly.”

“Thanks, lad.” 

Porthos watched d’Artagnan go until he turned onto a side street then he stepped back into the shadows of a nearby alley. Navigating shortcuts and passageways he had not used in a very long time, Porthos wound his way through the city until he found himself beside a seedy pub on the outskirts of the Court. Casting a furtive glance up and down the street, Porthos slipped inside and into a corner in the back. When the serving girl came by, a too-young, too-thin girl with eyes that were entirely too old, he ordered a bottle of their strongest wine and told her not to let his mug run dry.

&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M

“Where’s Porthos?” Athos asked when d’Artagnan closed the door behind himself. He glanced toward the sitting room, glad to see that Aramis had remained where he was for now.

“Had an errand to run,” he replied. “Said he wouldn’t be long.”

“What kind of errand?” Athos asked.

“Didn’t say.”

“And you didn’t ask.”

“No.”

“d’Artagnan,” Athos began.

“He just needed a few minutes to himself, Athos,” d’Artagnan said softly. “It’s hard for him, to see such mistrust where there has always been love. He will keep his distance. He will give Aramis the time and space he asks. But do not think it does not come at a price, for it does. A very great one.”

“I know it does,” Athos said. “Do you think it any different for me? And you cannot tell me that it is not the same for you as well for I will not believe it. You ache inside as much as we do. But these are dangerous times, especially for Aramis. He needs…”

A sharp knock at the door interrupted their hushed conversation and both men frowned. Answering the door, they were surprised to find a fellow Musketeer on their doorstep. “Claude? What is it?”

“Treville has sent for the two of you. You and d’Artagnan are to report to the garrison at once,” Claude said firmly. He wasn’t sure why the Captain wanted to see these two but the man had not been happy and that never boded well for any of them. 

Athos hesitated, unsure what to do. He didn’t want to leave Aramis here alone but they couldn’t ignore a direct summons from the Captain either. He could simply have Aramis accompany them but Athos didn’t want to do that. He knew how much Aramis still struggled with others’ perceptions of him. Dragging him along with them as if he were a child that could not be trusted to mind himself would not help in that regard. Not to mention the number of questions it would garner about how Aramis had come to be so injured when the last time any of the men saw him he was perfectly fine. 

“Go,” Aramis said softly from the doorway of the sitting room. He was careful to stay partially in the shadows so that Claude would not see his face. “Porthos shall be along shortly. I will let him know that the Captain had need of you. Does he wish to see Porthos as well, Claude, or just these two?”

“Just these two for now, Aramis,” Claude replied. The Captain had been quite adamant about that, insisting that Porthos remain with Aramis when Claude brought Athos and d’Artagnan in.

“Well, you best be off then,” Aramis said with forced cheeriness. “You don’t want to keep the Captain waiting. He may be just back from his honeymoon but I doubt his good mood will last for long.”

“Too true,” Claude laughed. “I’m sure these two won’t be long.”

Aramis stayed where he was until the door closed behind them. With a sigh, he walked over and sat down at the kitchen table. He had no idea what the Captain could want with Athos and d’Artagnan both. Athos hadn’t even been at the garrison today. Telling himself it was likely something innocuous, he busied himself with putting together dinner for the four of them. He hadn’t realized it had grown so late. Porthos would be home any minute and hungry as a bear. He felt a momentary flash of fear at the thought and roughly forced it away. _That was the Darkness,_ he told himself sternly. _Porthos wouldn’t… not again._

When Athos and d’Artagnan reached the garrison, they found Treville standing at the top of the stairs glaring down angrily. “Up here. Now,” he barked as soon as they entered the courtyard. 

Casting a glance at each other in confusion, both men hurried up the stairs and into the Captain’s office. Athos made sure to close the door behind them, instinctively knowing that whatever was about to be said was not something he wanted the entire garrison privy to. They were no more in front of Treville’s desk before he was shoving a piece of parchment toward them and glaring hotly.

“Care to explain this, acting Captain Athos?” Treville snarled.

Athos’ brow creased as he took the paper from Treville’s hand. Scanning it, his eyes widened as he realized it was the Dereliction of Duty charge that Porthos and d’Artagnan had leveled against Aramis. “Sir, I can explain,” Athos said automatically, though quite how he was unsure.

“Really?” Treville said snidely. “You can explain how my best Musketeer ends up with a charge of Dereliction of Duty leveled against him by not one but two of his fellow Musketeers? Musketeers, I might add, that have ridden with that man for years, that he has bled for, and damn near died for more times than I care to know. You can explain that, can you?”

“Not… not really, Sir,” Athos amended, standing up straight and meeting the Captain’s gaze. This was on him. They may have all been under the influence of whatever lay within that shed to one degree or another, but he was in charge. The onus was on him. He would be the one to suffer the Captain’s wrath, not his brothers. They had endured more than they could bear as it was.

“Come again?” Treville said, his voice low and dangerous.

“I have no excuse to offer, Captain,” Athos repeated. “At least none that you are likely to believe.”

“Try me,” Treville said. “Because unless you can offer me something, I’ll see the lot of you charged in his place.”

Athos paled in alarm at that, his gaze flicking to d’Artagnan then back to Treville. “Sir, the error was mine.”

“They leveled the charge,” Treville countered. “Now start explaining before I send men out to have Porthos drug in here as well.”

“It was the shed, Sir,” d’Artagnan said suddenly.

“I wasn’t asking you, boy.”

“Nevertheless, d’Artagnan is correct,” Athos said resignedly. “The shed, or rather whatever is within it, can spread its influence beyond the walls of its… home. I do not know how long it was affecting us. Over a week for Porthos. Less than that for d’Artagnan and only a day or so for myself, but it was enough. Enough to make us do… that. Enough to make us…”

“To make you what?” Treville asked with growing horror. He could tell these men were telling the truth. This wasn’t some fanciful tale they were spinning to cover their backsides. Never had he wished for a fanciful tale more in his life than he did at that moment.

“To hurt him,” Athos said. “To attack him. Had you not arrived when you did... I do not even want to think of what all we might have done to him.”

Treville stared at the two men before him. There had been times in his life when he had truly despaired of the burden of command. This moment ranked as one of the greatest of all of those. “You realize that I will need to speak with Aramis,” he said after a moment. “It will be up to him what he wishes done for this, whether he wants to press charges of his own against any of you.”

“This isn’t Athos’ fault, Sir,” d’Artagnan burst in, unable to remain silent. Athos had tried to talk them out of it, but he and Porthos had insisted.

“Athos was the one in command. The decision was ultimately his. He could have chosen not to act on your accusation. He could have chosen to give Aramis a chance to speak in his defense. He could have chosen to investigate such a wildly unsubstantiated claim. He did none of those things. He is as culpable, more so in fact, than you are.”

“But he did let Aramis speak,” d’Artagnan argued. He couldn’t stand the thought of Athos being punished in some way for this and not simply because he and Porthos had pushed for it. Athos, both because of his rank and his position as acting Captain, would suffer far greater consequences than either he or Porthos would.

“d’Artagnan, the Captain is right,” Athos said. When he saw him start to argue again, he tried to explain. “Yes, I gave him a chance to defend himself, but I did so in front of you. I did not give him a chance to explain himself in private. I did not give him the same opportunity I did you, to speak his mind as he would without fear of censure. You and Porthos were both there glaring daggers at him. He knew his fate was sealed. He saw no reason to make it worse for himself. Besides, what was he supposed to do, call the two of you liars? Our brother… our brother would never do that.”

Athos turned his attention back to Treville and nodded. “When you speak to Aramis, Captain, do so privately. He will never say anything if he thinks he might be overheard, by us or anyone else. And… don’t talk to him here. Not anywhere within the garrison. I do not believe its influence can reach very far, after all I was the last to feel its effect. I believe that was due to the fact that I spent the majority of my time in here. Still, the farther Aramis is kept from it, the better.”

“Athos, you know at the very least this calls for a reduction in rank for you,” Treville said, true regret lacing his words.

“I am aware, Sir. I know you will need to inform the King as well.”

“Perhaps,” Treville said. “Regardless, I will speak with Aramis before I do anything. That will be all, gentlemen. Dismissed.”

&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M

Porthos was just starting on his third bottle when the too-young serving girl laid her hand on his arm. “I got a room in the back,” she whispered, trying to make her voice sound sultry and deep instead of high and girlish. 

“You don’t want nothing to do with me, girl,” Porthos said, moving her hand off his arm. “I’m nothin’ but trouble. I hurt everyone I care about. Everyone… everyone I love. I hurt ‘em and I scare ‘em and… You don’t want nothing to do with me.”

The girl shrugged and moved away, scanning the room for someone else who might be interested. She had thought the big Musketeer would be good for some coin but he was too busy trying to drown his sorrows in the bottom of a wine bottle. She’d keep an eye on him, though. If he kept drinking like that, when he passed out, she might be able to lift his purse.

As he downed another mug of wine, Porthos thought about the girl that had just propositioned him. If Aramis was here, he would have taken her aside, talked to her, tried to find out what had brought her here. He would have tried to help her rather than telling her to shove off. Aramis was a good person, not like him. 

Thinking about his lost love made Porthos’ heart ache all over again. His hands shook as he poured another mug of wine, sloshing half of it onto the table, but he didn’t notice. He couldn’t believe it had come to this. In all their years of friendship, all they had been through together, he had never dreamed there would come a day when he would betray Aramis like this. But he had. He had betrayed him and everything that was between them. He wasn’t even fit to call the man friend let alone anything else.

He thought about his ring now lying forsaken on the mantle over their fireplace and had to bite down hard on the sob that tried to claw its way out of his chest. His ring. The one he had so carefully chosen for Aramis as a sign of his love and devotion, etched with crosses to show his steadfast protection. Aramis was a fool to believe in the likes of him. When had he ever protected him? Every time Aramis had needed him, truly needed him, he had failed the man.

He had failed him at Savoy.

He had failed him at the ruins of Flamare.

He had failed him in Bathory’s dungeon.

And now, now he had even failed to protect him from himself. 

Aramis would be better off if he simply vanished, disappearing back into the Court where he had come from. He had thought the pauldron on his shoulder showed the world that he had made something of himself, that he was more than just a thief and a gutter rat. He was no better than the mongrels lurking in the shadows, waiting to savage whatever weaker prey unlucky enough to cross his path. 

&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M

Athos and d’Artagnan sat at the table at the foot of the stairs watching the men come and go around them. They kept a wary eye on the corner of the shed that they could see peeking out across the compound, glad that the men all seemed to be keeping well clear of it. Neither of them spoke as they sat still trying to take in the Captain’s words.

Athos told himself he didn’t really care, not for himself, though he knew that for the lie it was. He was damn proud of his rank within the regiment. He was proud of being Treville’s second in command, proud of having reached the status of Lieutenant. To lose that, to be cast back into the rank and file with everyone else, would be a wound to both his pride and his dignity. Not that he thought he did not deserve it, for he did. In truth, he felt he deserved a great deal more than merely a reduction in rank for what he had done, what he had allowed to be done, but he knew Aramis would never condone formal charges being leveled at any of them. He would be the only one to pay for their misdeed, at least formally so. He knew, however, that his brothers would feel every bit of the pain he did when the Captain stripped him of his standing in front of the entire garrison.

“Athos…” d’Artagnan began hesitantly, unsure what it was he wanted to say. His insides were tied in knots. He had not once thought that there might be repercussions for his actions, at least not beyond himself. To find out differently, to find out that Athos would be the one to suffer for his mistakes, left him feeling sick and helpless inside.

“It will be alright, d’Artagnan,” Athos said, seeing the lad’s upset written across his face. “Better me than you and Porthos. Besides, tis only a reduction in rank. A bit less pay will make no difference to me.”

“We both know it is not the pay you care about,” d’Artagnan said miserably. “I had no idea, Athos. I never thought. It should not be you. We are the ones who did this. You tried to convince us not to.”

“Easy, Whelp,” Athos said softly. “What’s done is done. Treville has not made his decision yet, but if I had to choose who would suffer the consequences of this, I would choose myself. As I said, tis only a reduction in rank for me. For you and Porthos, the punishment would be… well, it would be something else entirely.”

“It should be,” d’Artagnan growled though he kept his voice equally soft so as not to be overheard. “Why is it that you always bear the brunt of whatever we do? We are the ones who have done this, who insisted on pushing forward with this, yet you are the one who will be forced to stand before the entire regiment, before the very King, and have your rank stripped from you. Even with Aramis, we are the ones who hurt him, who abused him for days on end, yet you must suffer his fear and mistrust right along with us. It is not fair and yet there is nothing I can do to right either of these wrongs.”

“D’Artagnan, you need do nothing,” Athos told him. “You are my brother. Even… even if I had no part in this at all, I would still stand by your side in it. I would still do my best to shield you from all of this that I could. And do not act as though I am innocent in this for I am not. I put my hands on him in violence the same as you. The bruises he wears, they are as much my fault as yours.”

“Perhaps the ones on the outside,” d’Artagnan acquiesced. “But the wounds on the inside, those cannot be laid at your feet. And we both know how much harder it will be for him to heal from those than from the bruises we gave him, sickening though they are.”

&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M

Aramis was starting to worry. He had finished preparing dinner some time ago but Porthos was still not home. D’Artagnan had said he was only running a short errand but Aramis had no idea what it could be. The last errand Porthos had run had been to pick up his ring. Casting a glance toward the mantle in the sitting room, Aramis felt his stomach twist as he saw it lying there next to his discarded collar. He doubted if it had anything to do with that which left him at a loss as to what could be keeping the man. 

Another hour passed and Aramis’ worry had turned to agitation then to outright fear. Porthos should have been home by now. He would have told them if he was going to be this long. A dozen different possibilities ran through his mind, each more troubling than the last. As if they did not have enough to worry about simply being Musketeers, there was the Darkness growing within the shed to contend with and Pierre and Marisol were still out there as well.

Aramis had gone so far as to light a fire in the hearth as well as the lamps in the kitchen as night cast an eerie gloom throughout the house. He had never really noticed the way the shadows seemed to reach out from the corners of the room, as if trying to grab him with spectral hands. Then again, he had never been alone in their home before. It made him uneasy and he found himself constantly looking toward the door, his anxiety increasing with every passing minute.

Finally having enough, he shot to his feet and went to the peg where his doublet and weapons hung. He grunted as he shrugged into his leathers, his stomach protesting the movement and his shoulder stinging at the added weight. He ignored the minor discomforts, though, and quickly began securing his various weapons. Having donned his sword, main gauche and both pistols, he hurried upstairs to his room. There, he slipped his throwing knives into his boots, strapped on his two remaining pistols and slung his arquebus over his shoulder. He was just coming down the stairs when the sound of the bolt sliding free made him freeze.

When Athos walked in he was not expecting to be greeted by the sight of his lover apparently preparing to go to war. The scene stopped him in his tracks and he stood frozen unsure what had prompted Aramis to don every single weapon at his disposal.

“Athos? What is it?” D’Artagnan asked from behind him. His hand had gone to his sword when Athos had stopped in the doorway and he waited, tensed as if to spring.

“Aramis… Brother…” Athos whispered softly, his hands held up and away from his body as if to show he posed no threat. “Has something happened?”

Aramis stared wide-eyed at Athos. For a few short seconds he had thought Porthos finally home. When he saw it was Athos and d’Artagnan returning instead, his hope turned to anger and he strode into the kitchen and slammed his arquebus onto the table.

“Porthos is not home,” he snarled by way of explanation as Athos finally moved into the room, d’Artagnan following behind cautiously.

“What do you mean he’s not home?” D’Artagnan asked, alarmed. “He said he just had to make a stop. He should have been home hours ago.”

“Well I am going to find him,” Aramis told them. 

“No,” Athos said causing him to look up sharply. “Brother, you do not even know where to start looking. Unless you have some idea, d’Artagnan?”

“No,” d’Artagnan shook his head. “I’m sorry. He just said it wouldn’t take long and he’d be right home. I… I should never have let him go by himself. I don’t know what I was thinking. I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault,” Athos said. “And we do not even know that there is cause for worry. There could be any number of reasons for his delay.”

“Like what?” Aramis challenged.

“He could have run into some of the men from the garrison,” Athos offered, though he knew how unlikely that was. “He could have run into some of his old friends from the Court. He could have even run into Flea and simply lost track of time.”

“Or he could have run across the men these two have been hunting. Or perhaps he ran into Pierre again,” Aramis shot back.

“Believe me, Aramis, if he ran into Pierre again it is not Porthos we need worry for.”

“Athos, I cannot just sit here and do nothing while Porthos is out there somewhere,” Aramis insisted.

“Aramis, listen to me. If we had any idea at all where to even begin looking I would do so at once,” Athos said. “For now, there is little we can do but wait. If he has not come home by morning, I will go to the Captain and our brothers will tear this city apart until we find him. But we cannot ask him to do so yet. You know this.”

Aramis looked at Athos, desperately not wanting to believe his words. He knew they were true, though. They could not go to the Captain, not yet. Aramis knew the man would help them but the risk to him would be far too great. And without some idea of where to start their search it would be a futile waste of time. Unless they split up, which they were not going to do, they would be better served waiting here for Porthos to return home. 

In the end all they could do was sit and wait. Aramis had busied himself for a few minutes laying out a late dinner for Athos and d’Artagnan but he had declined to eat any himself. As it was they only picked at their food and d’Artagnan ended up clearing it away not long after. It was a testament to how distracted Aramis was that the younger man managed to do so without him even noticing. 

“Aramis, why don’t you come with us into the sitting room,” Athos suggested. The man had been pacing relentlessly, his worry for Porthos refusing to allow him to rest. It hurt Athos’ heart to see him so agitated and he longed to comfort him. He doubted that anything he could do would be of any real comfort, not until Porthos was safely back with them. 

“I cannot,” Aramis said, his hand raking though his hair and tugging at it subconsciously. He could not seem to stop his mind from conjuring up one horrific fate after another for his missing brother and the later the hour grew the more dire his imaginings. 

“Alright,” Athos said. “I’ll just sit here with you then. D’Artagnan…”

“I would stay,” the younger man said. “If my presence will not overly trouble you.”

Aramis nodded, glad for their company though he did not have the words to tell them so. His mind was too full of other things, but he felt his brothers’ nearness and it soothed him as it always did. Things might be strained between them of late, but he had meant it when he said he had no wish to be parted from them. 

As the hours drug on toward midnight, Athos began to truly worry and not only for Porthos. He knew his brother could take care of himself. Besides which, the sheer size of the man gave most people pause. Whatever the reason for his absence, Athos did not think he had run afoul of anyone. Who he truly worried for at that moment was Aramis. The man had not been at his best before tonight, not having a chance to fully recover from their attack on him yet. This added stress was quickly wearing away what few reserves he had left and Athos despaired for how much more he could take. 

He did not miss the effect all of this was having on d’Artagnan, either. Of all of them, this seemed to be hitting him the hardest. Yet, of all of them, d’Artagnan was the only one that had not laid a hand on Aramis. None of the damage done to him had been by the lad’s hand. At least none of the physical damage. That didn't stop d’Artagnan from apparently blaming himself for everything that happened. As much as it pained Athos to see Aramis like this, it pained him to see the spark in d’Artagnan’s eyes dimmed to the point of nothingness almost as much.

Finally, the sound of the key fumbling in the lock drew their attention to the kitchen door. Aramis’ hand went to his pistol as he stilled completely. He felt more than saw Athos and d’Artagnan go still as well as they all but held their breath and waited for the door to open.

Porthos stumbled through the door, the lingering effects of the wine making the room sway. When he saw his brothers all gathered in the kitchen, Aramis kitted out like he was headed for the bloody crusades, the last of the alcoholic haze burned away in a flash.

“What’s going on?” Porthos asked suddenly scared.

“What’s going on?” Aramis parroted. “What’s going on? You’re not fucking dead, that’s what’s going on!” With that he snatched his arquebus up from the table nearly hitting Athos in the face with it as he did so and stormed up the stairs. The sound of his bedroom door slamming shut hard enough to shake the walls echoed behind him then everything was silent except for the sound of their breathing.

Athos felt his temper flare and opened his mouth to begin his own tirade when he paused to take a good look at his brother. Porthos normally dark skin was ashen, not to mention the fact that the man smelled like a winery. It was his eyes, though, that worried Athos the most. They looked haunted in a way he had hoped to never see again. Not since the ruins had Porthos looked so lost and, angry as he was, Athos did not have the heart to heap yet more on shoulders already sagging under their load.

“D’Artagnan, could you excuse Porthos and I for a few minutes?” Athos asked, his eyes never leaving the other man. “We need to have a talk.”

“Of course,” d’Artagnan replied softly. He rose from the table and headed for the sitting room, squeezing Porthos’ shoulder as he passed. He hoped Athos wasn’t too hard on him. Yes, he had worried them all but d’Artagnan could understand the need to simply forget, even if just for a little while.

Athos waited until they were alone then gestured to d’Artagnan’s vacant chair. “Sit down,” he said then scrubbed a hand over his face. “I’m sorry. I am not angry with you, brother. Only worried.”

“I’m sorry,” Porthos said as he all but dropped into the chair. “I didn’t mean to worry everyone. I just… just needed a few minutes…” 

“A few minutes?” Athos repeated. “Porthos, it is after midnight. Aramis has been beside himself all evening. It was all I could do to keep him from scouring the city for you. He does not need this, brother. I daresay none of us do. What kept you so long?”

“My own bloody cowardice,” Porthos said derisively. “I couldn’t face him. Couldn’t face you, either. So I crawled like a dog into the darkest corner I could find and tried to drink until I couldn’t remember. It didn’t work, though. No matter how much I drank, I could still see him looking up at me. Afraid. I got no right to be here, Athos. I got no right…”

“Porthos du Vallon,” Athos said, his voice low and fierce. “Listen to me because I am only going to say this once. Aramis needs you. He needs you here. Not off trying to drink away your sins. I have tried that. Believe me when I say it does not work.”

“Athos…”

“I am not finished,” Athos said sharply. “Aramis is not the only one who needs you. I need you, brother. I need you here, by my side. I cannot do this without you. I do not want to do this without you. I love you, Porthos. In all of this, that has not changed. Not once. I promised you this would not drive us apart and it will not. Please, do not doubt me now.”

“Athos,” Porthos gasped, his hands reaching across the table toward the other man. He nearly sobbed when Athos reached back at once, taking his hands and holding them tightly. He had been so scared that he had lost everything, that everyone he loved now hated him. To hear Athos say he still loved him after all that he had done was nigh unto a miracle in his eyes. 

“It will be alright, brother. We will make it through this. It will take time and effort but he is still with us. We have not lost him and we will not. Nor will we lose each other.”

It took a few minutes, but Porthos finally calmed enough to be able to speak again. “Bit… bit worried about the Whelp, Athos,” he confided after glancing toward the sitting room to make sure d’Artagnan was not within earshot. “He’s not taking this well. He tries to hide it, but…”

“I know,” Athos replied. “I do not know how to help him, though. I fear he has lost his way and not just with Aramis.”

“You said it yourself, we won’t lose each other, Athos. That includes the Whelp.”

“Yes. Yes, it does,” Athos agreed. He was glad that he was not the only one to notice d’Artagnan’s struggle. He was going to need help if he was going to find a way to draw their youngest back to them. “But that is a worry for another time. We are all exhausted. Let’s get you to bed. We can talk about this more in the morning.”

Upstairs, Aramis put his arquebus away then began to slowly divest himself of his weapons. One by one, he took them off and laid them out on the bureau. When he was down to his doublet, he carefully slid it off, letting it drop to the floor. He let out a gasp when he bent to pick it up, his bruised abdomen protesting the movement. Now that his mind was no longer consumed with worry, he could feel his various aches and pains once more. Feeling exhaustion tugging at him relentlessly, he took his doublet and headed back down to the kitchen.

Entering the kitchen, Aramis walked straight to Porthos. He tossed his doublet on the table and pulled the man to his feet. Without a word, he wrapped his arms around him. Closing his eyes, he held him, letting the feel of him safe and whole in his arms bleed away the last of the fear that had been churning inside of him for hours on end. 

Suddenly, he shoved Porthos back by the shoulders and shook him. Hard. “Don’t you ever do that to me again,” he snapped fiercely. 

“I won’t,” Porthos said at once. “I’m so sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“You weren’t,” Aramis said flatly. “I’m going to bed. Eat something and clean up. You smell like you fell in a wine barrel.”

From the sitting room doorway, d’Artagnan watched the scene in the kitchen. He felt a bittersweet pang at the way Aramis hugged Porthos to him. While it gave him hope for the pair he also knew that were he in Porthos’ place Aramis’ reaction would have been much different. In reality, he doubted if Aramis would have been all that worried to begin with and he certainly wouldn’t have ended up holding him as if he could not bear to live without him. It made what he had just done feel even more right. Now he just had to find a way to live with it.

“Come on,” d’Artagnan said coming into the kitchen after Aramis had retreated back upstairs. “Do you feel up to eating or do you just want to get some rest?”

“I just want to lie down,” Porthos admitted.

“Then let’s get you upstairs. You and Athos can take the bedroom tonight.”

“Whelp?” Porthos frowned, not liking the idea of d’Artagnan being alone.

“I’ll be fine,” he said as he came over and began helping Porthos out of his weapons and armor. “You and Athos… you need some time for you. I’ll be right down here. I promise.”

“That does not mean you are not welcome,” Athos said as he started helping strip Porthos down as well. 

“I know.”

“I do not think you do,” Athos said. “I am not sure what is going on in your head of late, but I know it is nothing good.”

“Don’t worry about me, Athos,” d’Artagnan said. “At least for tonight, alright? Be there for Porthos. I promise I’ll be right downstairs.”

“Alright,” Athos reluctantly agreed. He knew there was no changing the lad’s mind, not when he got like this. Perhaps tomorrow they could get him to talk to them. For now, he would focus on taking care of Porthos.

&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M

“So, care to tell me what it is that has you so preoccupied this evening?” Constance asked. Jean had barely spoken to her since arriving home, answering her with perfunctory replies and sometimes not at all. She was starting to grow worried.

“More like who,” he sighed. “And I am fairly certain you can guess, my dear.”

“I thought they were taking a few days off,” Constance said.

“As did I. Apparently a few things went on in my absence that I was unaware of.” Slowly, he began to tell her what he knew, first of the shed and the possible danger it posed then of what had happened to Aramis, or at least as much of it as he was privy to. 

“They attacked him?” Constance cried out in shock. “I cannot believe that.”

“If it had come from any other, I would not have believed it either, but Athos and d’Artagnan told me of it themselves.”

“How badly was he hurt?”

“I don’t know. But from what I could piece together, he left the garrison under his own power. I know that does not tell us much…”

“I need to see him,” Constance said, at once worried and determined.

Treville started to discourage her then stopped. He needed to speak with Aramis himself. He saw no reason why Constance could not accompany him and at least see the man for a bit beforehand. “I think that can be arranged. I need to speak with him and would prefer to do so away from prying eyes,” he said. He saw her smile gratefully and could not help but smile back. “There is one more thing. Aramis thinks it best if you keep clear of the garrison for now.”

“What? Why?” 

“Because he believes whatever is in that shed is alive and is evil and he does not want to risk something happening to you,” Treville told her honestly. He saw her start to argue and leaned forward to press a kiss to her lips. “He has enough to worry about right now, my dear. Let’s not give him anything else. Alright?”

“Very well,” she harrumphed. “I don’t like it, but I will do it for him. And for you.”


	23. Chapter 23

When d’Artagnan finally gave up on sleep and sat up in bed the first blush of dawn was barely lifting the gloom of night. He had spent the night in his old room, the one Constance had taken for herself when they had first moved in with her. It felt strange being in here again, like time had somehow reversed itself. He half expected to come out to find Constance at the kitchen sink, her ogre of a husband glaring disdainfully in his direction. When he walked into the kitchen, however, it was thankfully empty and he breathed a sigh of relief. No ghosts here at least. 

Realizing his brothers would not be up for some time yet, he began putting breakfast together. He had only been able to do this once since their return to duty, Aramis having insisted on taking over that role. They knew now that Porthos’ comments had been fueled by something outside of his control, but the damage had been done. They could tell Aramis this was not his place all they wanted but he doubted if it would make a difference. Some lessons, once taken to heart, were nearly impossible to unlearn. 

As he went about making breakfast, he was surprised at how soothing he found the act. He had always felt at ease taking care of others and taking care of his brothers gave him a sense of satisfaction he had found nowhere else. To be able to do so again, even in such a small way, helped to ease the miasma of loss inside of him, tamping it down until it was merely a nuisance rather than a sickening pit within him.

When Aramis awoke, it was to the feel of sunlight on his face. He had not closed the shutters since he was normally up long before sunrise. Last night, however, had sapped his strength and he had slept much longer than usual. He had to admit, waking to the feel of the morning sunlight warming his skin was nice. Much nicer than waking to a cold, empty bed in the darkness. He had grown rather spoiled, waking to the feel of his lovers curled around him protectively. It was not so much their protection he craved as it was their nearness, their love and _brotherhood_. He missed that so much. Even bruised though he still was, inside and out, he ached for his brothers. 

Knowing it was past time he was up and about, he threw back the blanket and rose. He was relieved to note that the pain in his stomach had eased a great deal. He realized then that the headache he’d had for the last few days was gone as well. Giving his shoulder an experimental shrug caused him to hiss sharply, however. It would seem that not quite everything was healing as well as he had hoped. He dressed quickly and grabbed his kit from the bureau. He would see to breakfast then redress his shoulder. Hopefully he had simply irritated the wound yesterday. 

When he walked into the kitchen he was surprised to find breakfast already laid out on the table. That was when he saw d’Artagnan. He was sitting at the end of the table staring down at his hands. Aramis didn’t think the lad even realized he had entered the room. As much as everything within him was still in an uproar, seeing d’Artagnan like this hurt, too. They were still brothers and Aramis had no wish to see his brothers punished, not by his hand or any other. Including their own.

Taking a moment to gather himself, Aramis walked over to the table and set his kit down. “Good morning,” he said softly, unable to keep his own eyes from flitting away when d’Artagnan’s head shot up.

“I’m sorry. I’ll go,” d’Artagnan said, rising clumsily. 

“Don’t be silly,” Aramis said. “Breakfast looks wonderful. Thank you for doing that this morning. I didn’t mean to sleep in so late.”

“It was no bother,” d’Artagnan said. He cast a glance toward the man and watched him spread out his kit as water heated. “Cooking for us… it is not your responsibility, Aramis. I am sorry if we have caused you to think it so.”

“Ah, well, you took on the duty quite readily enough,” Aramis said uncertainly. “It is long past time the duty fell to someone else.”

“How else was I to be of any use?” D’Artagnan shrugged. “It isn’t like I have much to offer the lot of you save one headache or another. At least this way…”

“Nothing to offer?” Aramis queried, stunned that he would think such a thing still. He looked at him then, using his marksman’s eyes, taking in every little detail, and what he saw made his heart ache all over again. Setting his kit aside, Aramis pulled a chair over next to the younger man and sat down.

“Aramis?”

Reaching out slowly, Aramis took one of d’Artagnan’s hands in his own. He wished his could have kept his hand from shaking but he doubted if d’Artagnan even noticed. “You have everything to offer simply by being who you are,” Aramis told him. “I know… I know things are difficult for you right now. I am trying…”

“Stop,” d’Artagnan rasped out. “Don’t you dare apologize for needing time to heal from all we did to you. I won’t hear it. Yes, it is difficult. It should be. We deserve for it to be. I only wish it did not have to be so hard for you.”

“You are my brother,” Aramis said firmly. “I still feel your pain as keenly today as I did a month ago. That has not changed and it will not.”

“Then once again we are fortunate beyond measure for we do not deserve it.”

“You always deserve it,” Aramis argued. “Or do you truly believe that Porthos no longer merits my concern? Or is it Athos that does not deserve my care now?”

“No,” d’Artagnan smiled weakly. “They both do. And I shall do everything in my power to help you reforge those bonds. They love you more than life itself, Aramis. As I know you still love them.”

“And what of you?” Aramis asked softly. 

“I… I…” d’Artagnan began then faltered, unsure how to put his chaotic and melancholy thoughts into words without making it seem as though he was trying to make the man feel guilty. “We spoke once of burdens. Of how we understood how relationships could turn into such. I have no wish to be your burden. 'Tis enough that you allow me this far back into your life.”

Aramis shook his head and started to argue but d’Artagnan squeezed his hand, stopping him.

“I said back at the maison, back before all of this began, that I would accept whatever role I was granted in your life, in all of your lives. Just as the fact that we are brothers has not changed for you, that has not changed for me. If I seem distant, it is only because I am adjusting. Nothing more.”

“You speak as though this change between us, temporary though it might be, somehow extends to your relationships with Athos and Porthos as well.”

D’Artagnan merely shrugged again, not replying. He wasn’t sure what to say. At least not what to say that would not end up upsetting Aramis and he had no wish to do that. He had enough to deal with. He didn’t need him adding anything to it. Besides, he wasn’t exactly wrong, other than saying that the change between them was a temporary one. D’Artagnan understood that for what it was, though. Aramis was merely giving him hope until time could do its work and soften the blow enough to be endured. If it made it easier on Aramis, then he would allow him the deception. It did him no harm. He already knew the truth.

Aramis was about to say something else when the kettle began to whistle, startling them both. Cursing under his breath, he went to get the water. He would get his shoulder seen to then he and the Whelp could continue their conversation. He did not care for where it had led so far in the slightest. It wasn’t so much the boy’s words as the air about them. D’Artagnan had not even been this closed off to him before Flamare. 

“How is your shoulder?” D’Artagnan asked, looking away as Aramis pulled his shirt over his head and off.

“Still bothersome,” he admitted. “I think I just irritated it yesterday. I need to clean it and replace the bandage.”

“I’ll just get out of your way then.” 

D’Artagnan was up and out the back door before he could stop him. He berated himself for missing an opportunity to try to bridge the gap between them, yet he wasn’t sure he could. And to try and fail would likely be worse than not making the effort at all. As much as he worried for his brothers in this, he knew he was still healing. He did, in fact, have a great deal of healing yet to do. He could not sacrifice that for their sakes. If he tried it would only end in disaster for all of them. _Physician, heal thyself_ had never been more apt.

Luckily, when he uncovered the wound he found it to be more or less as he had expected. It was red and sore but appeared more chafed than anything. He saw none of the dangerous signs of infection, no foul smell nor worrisome lines of red spidering out from the wound. Satisfied, he cleaned it and covered it once more before packing his kit away. He considered going after d’Artagnan but hesitated, understanding a strategic retreat when he saw one. Instead, he carried his kit back up to his room. He would see about rousing the others. Perhaps by then d’Artagnan would have returned.

As Aramis approached the slightly open doorway to the master bedroom after putting his medical kit away, he heard Athos and Porthos quietly talking. He paused, his sharp hearing able to pick out most of what they were saying. Inching closer, he peered through the opening at the two men laying side by side on the bed.

“I’m such a fool,” Porthos whispered as he stared up at the ceiling. 

Athos was on his side facing him, his hand propping his head up as he looked down at his brother. “Often, yes,” Athos smiled. “And I daresay you will be again. Especially where Aramis is concerned. You love him. That your fear drove you to such foolish behavior was only to be expected.”

“I shouldn’t have worried him like that, though. I didn’t mean to do that. I was just… just afraid.”

“I trust your fears have been allayed at least to some degree.”

“Yeah, you posh bastard,” Porthos chuckled. “Though why you’re willing to forgive what I done…”

“Because I love you,” Athos told him. “I love you very much, Porthos. And I will not allow this thing to take you from me. It failed to do so before. I refuse to allow it to succeed now.”

Porthos lay there for a moment taking in his brother’s words. Suddenly, he turned on his side so he was facing the man then rolled them over so that Athos lay atop him. He waited then, making sure Athos had no objection. When he saw only acceptance in his eyes, he sank his hand into his hair and pulled him down into a deep kiss that made them both moan.

From the doorway, Aramis had to bite his lip to keep from gasping aloud. To hear his brothers express their love for each other gladdened his heart. To see them like this, though, able to not only be there for one another but show their love lifted the veil of guilt he had not even realized he had been shrouded in. He had known of Athos’ anger toward the pair, the man had not tried to hide it after all. Apparently he had been more concerned about that than he had cared to admit. Seeing them like this now gave him hope for all of them. Even their all too stubborn, and badly bruised, Whelp.

Aramis turned to leave, intent on giving the pair their privacy. He was so surprised by what he had seen, however, that his boot kicked the doorframe as he turned to leave, drawing the pair’s attention. “Sorry,” he said blushing slightly as he pushed the door open the rest of the way to reveal himself. “I didn’t mean to pry. I was only coming to tell you that d’Artagnan had prepared breakfast when I heard you talking.”

“It’s alright,” Athos said, moving off of Porthos reluctantly. 

“You don’t have to get up,” Aramis said at once, berating himself again for interrupting the pair.

“We’re running late already,” Porthos said, sitting up along with Athos. 

“It is, um… it is good to see you both… well, together,” Aramis said after a moment. He could see the lingering unease on Porthos’ face and wanted to assure him that he did not begrudge them this. “I know Athos was somewhat upset…”

“That’s putting it mildly,” Porthos said with a snort.

“Yes, well, I’m just glad to see that you could both move past it,” Aramis told them. “I would never want to see what is between you fractured in any way. I… I love you both quite dearly. You do know that, don’t you?”

“Of course we do,” Athos said. “Just as we know that fact does not mean you do not still need time to heal. One does not negate the other. We know this, even if we do lose sight of it from time to time.”

“I’m really sorry about that,” Porthos said. “It won’t happen again. You’ve my word on it.”

“I know,” Aramis said. 

“What is it?” Athos asked after a moment. He could tell there was something else on Aramis’ mind that was troubling him.

“You know me so well, my Athos,” Aramis smiled briefly before turning serious. “I am worried for our Whelp.”

“You should not worry for him, Aramis,” Athos said. At the incredulous look on the man’s face he tried to explain. “We all know you need time. You should not concern yourself with us while doing so. We shall manage…”

“You are an idiot,” Aramis said flatly. When Athos only blinked at him he strode into the room until he was standing in front of the two men. “When have I ever not concerned myself with the likes of you? Yes, I am still… still getting over everything as I will likely be for some time but if you think I’m going to just ignore your pain…”

“Aramis, Athos is right. You shouldn’t have to…”

“I shouldn’t have to do a lot of things, Porthos,” Aramis said. “I shouldn’t have had to bury twenty of my brothers. I shouldn’t have to on my guard simply to go to the market square. I shouldn’t have to hide my lovers simply because they are men. I shouldn’t have had to do any of those things, yet I have. So do not sit there and tell me I should not worry for you because… because I already do.”

“What is it about d’Artagnan that has you so concerned?” Athos asked, hoping to bring the conversation back to somewhat safer territory.

“He is lost,” Aramis said. It was the best way he knew to put it. He told them of the talk he’d had with the lad, of d’Artagnan’s words about the burden a relationship could bring. “When I said it seemed as though he was speaking about his relationships with all of us and not just myself, he merely shrugged.” 

“We have noticed things with him as well. He does not say much, though that is nothing new. What he does say now, though, does not speak to a future. He blames himself for this, as always, and I think…”

“Athos?” Porthos prompted when Athos fell silent. 

“I think he is terrified,” Athos said. “He is living out one of his worst nightmares and he has no way to make it end.”

“He can’t find his place,” Porthos said quietly.

“Come again?” Aramis frowned.

“Boy’s forever trying to find his place, how he fits. He finally had then this happened. Now, he’s got no idea what his place is anymore. You remember that dream he had, where he said his place was on the bottom? That’s part of it. Back then, he didn’t think he had a place, so he scraped himself out one at the bottom. Now… now, I got no clue what the lad’ll do.”

“For once and for all, d’Artagnan’s place is _not_ at the _bottom_ of anything,” Aramis snarled, his temper flaring to life. 

“Whoa, hey, I didn’t mean I thought that,” Porthos said, backpedaling quickly. 

“I’m sorry,” Aramis said after taking a deep breath and forcing himself to calm down. “I know you don’t believe that. I only wish he did not either.”

“We will figure it out,” Athos said, getting to his feet and going to Aramis. He pulled him into his arms and held him loosely. “We won’t lose him. I promise.”

“You can’t promise that. No one can.”

“I can and I did,” Athos told him. “Now let us go down and have breakfast before it gets completely cold. We need to talk over a few things and decide what we are going to do next.”

When they made their way into the kitchen, they were relieved to see that d’Artagnan was already there. At least they would not have to force the lad to come back inside with them. “Glad you made a lot,” Porthos said. “I’m starved.”

“That’s because you drank your dinner last night,” Aramis replied, quirking an eyebrow at him, though his words contained no heat this time. “And you can thank d’Artagnan. He made breakfast this morning.”

“Oh,” Athos said, surprised. He didn’t think Aramis would have allowed anyone else to take on that role. 

“I was up,” d’Artagnan shrugged. 

They settled down to breakfast, quietly eating as each of them thought about the coming day. They needed to talk, that much was clear. Having spent a day apart, they needed to make each other aware of whatever new developments they were privy to. Athos especially needed to talk to Porthos and d’Artagnan about what Michel had said. 

Once breakfast was finished and the dishes cleared away, they gathered back around the table. Aramis looked at each of his brothers in turn, taking in the pensive way they regarded him. They knew he had something he wanted to say and they had a feeling they were not going to like it. They were right, of course. He knew they only wanted to keep him safe and he could not fault them for that, but he was tired of being trapped in this house. Beautiful though it might be, a gilded cage was still a cage.

“I believe I am ready to return to duty with you,” Aramis finally stated, ending the tense silence.

“Are you sure?” Porthos asked. He immediately wanted to kick himself for sounded as though he doubted the man but he couldn’t help it. 

“Not completely,” Aramis smiled, shaking his head a bit. “But I know I will go insane if I am forced to stay in this house another day, regardless of the company.”

“Peace, brother,” Athos said. “I know you meant no insult to me. I would have likely lost my composure long before now were I in your place. You have the patience of Job but even he had his limits. If you say you are ready then so be it.”

“D’Artagnan?” Aramis asked when the younger man failed to make any comment.

“Like Porthos, I worry but it is not that I worry for your ability to take care of yourself. You know your own mind. If you say you are ready to return to duty then we shall be by your side. If… if you want us to, that is.”

“I always want you to, d’Artagnan,” Aramis said gently.

“There are some few things we need to discuss first,” Athos said, wanting to get them up to date. “Father Michel came by yesterday. He blessed the house so it should be protected from any further influence.”

“So nobody being affected by that thing can get in here?” Porthos asked hopefully.

“That is his theory,” Athos said. “He could not say for certain, but he felt confident.”

“Thank God,” d’Artagnan said, a shiver running through him at the memory of turning on Aramis here, in their home. It had only been once, but it had been enough. Of all places, Aramis should be safest here.

“Does he know what to do to destroy that thing?” Porthos asked.

“Not yet,” Athos replied. He was about to say more when a knock at the door interrupted him.

D’Artagnan was surprised to find the Captain and Constance calling on them at such a time. Normally, the Captain would have long since been at the garrison preparing for the day. “Sir. Constance. Please, come in.”

“Ah, Captain,” Athos greeted, standing. “What brings you here this morning?”

“Constance wanted to pay a visit to Aramis,” Treville said. He had felt her hand tighten on his arm when she had seen the man’s face but she had managed to hold her tongue. He was quite proud of her considering he had nearly sputtered himself when he had seen the bruising all up and down the side of the man’s face. “She hasn’t had a chance to see him since the wedding. And since I had a few things I needed to go over with him myself, I thought now was as good a time as any.”

“Sir?” Aramis asked, suddenly unsure about what was going on.

“Of course,” Athos said, understanding the true reason for Treville’s visit now. He didn’t know if bringing Constance along was a good idea or not but it was done. 

“Indeed,” Treville said giving Athos and d’Artagnan a pointed look. It was clear from the confusion on Porthos’ face that he didn’t know what was going on. Treville was sure that the two would bring him up to date soon enough. “You three go ahead and report in. You can work with the recruits until Aramis and I arrive.”

Porthos started to argue, but Athos stopped him. Whatever was going on, Athos knew about it and was at least somewhat okay with it. He didn’t like it, didn’t like the idea of leaving Aramis without one of them with him, but this was Treville. Surely the man would be safe with him.

Constance held her tongue until the door closed behind the others then she was up and out of her chair, rushing toward Aramis before Treville could make a move to stop her. “Oh, Aramis,” she said as she dropped to her knees beside him. “What did they do to you?”

“This… this was not their fault,” he stammered, shocked by her reaction. It was clear she knew what happened or at least the basics of it, as did Treville. 

“Constance, come now,” Treville said as he all but lifted her from the floor and sat her back in the chair closest to Aramis. “He is alright.”

“Alright?” she shrieked then brought her hand to her mouth when she realized how she sounded. “I’m sorry. It’s just…”

“I know,” Aramis smiled softly. “I really am alright, though. I have a few bruises, yes, but there was little damage done. The bite on my shoulder is the only thing still giving me any trouble.” Aramis winced, knowing it was a mistake as soon as he’d said it. He had not meant to say anything, knowing how mortified Athos would be should anyone find out. For Constance and the Captain to know of it, however, would be particularly humiliating.

“Bite? One of them bit you?” Constance demanded, shooting to her feet only for Treville to pull her back down again.

“Stop this,” he said putting a bit of snap into his voice. “He does not need this on top of everything else. Not now. Your concern for him does you credit but he has enough on his shoulders without worrying about you taking after anyone sword in hand.”

“You’re right,” she said, sagging in her chair as a sail suddenly bereft of all wind.

“I know you only worry for me,” Aramis said taking her hand and holding it. “Your care, it means a very great deal to me. This truly was not their fault, though. Something was… while perhaps not controlling them, twas the next thing to it.”

“What can we do?” she asked, for that was what really mattered, what they could do to help him now.

“You, my dear, can stay away from the garrison for one. Far away from it. In fact, I would prefer you out of Paris altogether until this matter is resolved,” Aramis said.

“I am not running,” she said stubbornly.

“I am not asking you to run,” Aramis said. “I am asking you… I am asking you not to force us to divide our attention. I am asking you not to put yourself in the position of being able to be used as a pawn of some sort. Or a shield. I am asking you not to allow yourself to be hurt as I was simply because you did not see it coming.”

“Why would your brothers attempt to hurt me?” she asked, looking back and forth between Aramis and Treville in confusion.

“I was not speaking of my brothers,” Aramis said meeting her gaze steadily. “Do you think them the only ones that can be influenced? I assure you, madam, they are not. And he would already be long home before any of us realized something was wrong.”

Constance gasped, her eyes going wide as her gaze turned to her husband. She saw the disbelief on his face as well as the anger and turned back to Aramis.

“You think I would hurt her?” Treville demanded hotly.

“Of your own free will? Never,” Aramis said. “But do you honestly believe they were acting as such when they turned on me? They were fighting it with everything they had and it did not make a difference. If it takes you, if it takes you and it means to do her harm, you will not be able to stop it.”

“Go home and pack a bag,” Treville told her. “I’ll find somewhere for you to stay…”

“At the maison,” Aramis said. “She can stay there. Father Michel can accompany you to bless the place. She will be safe there until this business is done with.”

“I do not like it,” she said, rising. “But I will not make you worry for me. Nor will I make you have to choose between protecting me and protecting each other. I’ll be waiting for you at home.” With that, she turned and left, not trusting herself if she stayed any longer.

“I don’t like the thought of her being out there alone,” Treville said after she had gone.

“She’ll be far safer there than here,” Aramis said. “I do not believe the Darkness would target her, but if it found out she meant something to me it very well might. Michel believes it means to destroy me. Harming those I care for would be a very good way to go about it.”

“Yes, it would be at that,” Treville sighed. “We need to have a talk, son.”

“Son?” Aramis snorted, his hand going to his stomach as the muscles protested the sudden contraction. “I am not dying, Captain. No need for such theatrics.”

“Very funny,” Treville said, his mouth set in its usual exasperated line. “And you are not getting out of this conversation so you may as well stop trying.”

“So I am not,” Aramis agreed relenting. “What is it you wish to know, Sir?”

“They filed a formal grievance against you,” Treville said, getting right to the point.

“I was careless,” Aramis replied, looking away, his face flushing hotly.

“I have seen you falling down drunk and you still you had the keenest eye of any man I have ever known. You were not _careless_ ,” Treville said. “Try again.”

“I led them into an ambush.”

“Yes, it said as much. I still do not believe it. You have been in an ambush. You have seen first-hand the outcome of such things. You would no more lead your brothers into one than you would kiss the bloody Cardinal. One last time. Try again.”

“I don’t know what you want me to say,” Aramis said, his voice small in a way that made Treville’s heart hurt. This man, always so vibrant, so full of life, should never sound small. 

“Only the truth, son. Only ever the truth.”

“I was following the kidnappers, or the men we thought were them,” Aramis said softly. “I was right behind them. Then they just… disappeared and we were… were surrounded by blackness. It was… was wrong, though. It shouldn’t have been that dark, that… inky. That’s when I started to see their eyes. Dozens of them, coming out of the shadows, moving in on us.”

“Dozens of what?” Treville asked.

“Rats mostly and dogs. We started backing toward the street, back toward the light. We moved in tight, trying to keep our backs to each other. It was hard, though. There wasn’t much room to move and the rats were small, they kept swarming up our legs, getting between us. They actually brought me down once. If d’Artagnan hadn’t reached down for me… He pulled me back up out of them and shoved me toward the mouth of the alley. I don’t remember much of the trip back to the garrison after that. I think I was in shock. I know I’d lost a bit of blood. They’d seemed to concentrate on me or at least it felt like it at the time. It’s hard to say for sure now.”

“And what happened after that?” Treville asked.

“Ah, we went home?” Aramis replied, unsure what the man was asking. 

Treville knew there was more to the story but he let it go. What happened between them in their off time was not his business no matter how much he wanted to make it such. “And the next day? What happened when you returned to the garrison the next day?”

Aramis looked at him then looked down again. He knew his brothers didn’t mean it, that they regretted what they had done. That didn’t take the sting out of having to face the Captain over it, though. He could only imagine how disappointed the man had to be in him.

“Athos, ah Captain Athos told me of the charge against me and asked if I had anything to say in my defense. I declined and he ordered me to dismantle the shed as punishment rather than a public lashing. He didn’t think the rest of the men would take that very well and didn’t want to have to deal with the fallout as it were.”

“He threatened to have you lashed?” Treville asked darkly.

“Ah, no Sir. No,” Aramis said quickly. “He said he wouldn’t do that. That it would do far too much harm to morale…”

“Morale,” Treville snarled, his fists clenching. The man had been concerned about morale? He was sorely tempted to give him a lashing of his own. Maybe then he’d appreciate just what he had threatened to inflict on a man he had the audacity to call brother.

“Captain, it wasn’t him,” Aramis said, worried when he saw how angry Treville had grown. “It was the Darkness, Sir. It was affecting him. Athos… Athos would never have done something like that. Please, Captain.”

“Aramis, settle down,” Treville said when he saw how agitated the man was becoming.

“I just… it wasn’t their fault, Sir,” Aramis said again.

“I know,” Treville said, hoping to calm him. “And as much as I do know that I still must ask if you do not perhaps wish to file a grievance of your own? Your brothers, they did not do well by you. You would be within your right to file a formal complaint, just as they did.”

“They were not to blame,” Aramis said again. “And I will not see them punished for something they were not responsible for.”

“Very well,” Treville said, letting the matter go for now. “Then there is only the matter of Athos’ discipline to see to. If you would prefer not to be present…”

“What are you talking about? What discipline?” Aramis demanded.

“Athos’ actions, whether influenced or not, demand a certain response,” Treville said as carefully as he could.

“Why? What makes his actions any different from the rest?”

“He was in charge,” Treville said simply. “Command comes with a higher level of responsibility. As such, the consequences of Athos’ actions are much greater than those of Porthos or d’Artagnan.”

“Stop talking in circles, Treville. What consequences are you talking about?”

“A demotion,” Treville said flatly. “His status as Lieutenant will be forfeit.”

“No,” Aramis spat angrily. How dare this man? How dare he even suggest such a thing? Athos had done nothing to merit such blatant disrespect. He had served loyally and with honor. There was no way in hell he was going to stand by and allow Treville to demote the man, not for this.

“Come again?”

“You are not demoting him. Do you hear me? You’re not taking his rank from him. He worked hard for that. He’s earned it and you’re not taking it from him for something that wasn’t even his fault!”

“They hurt you. Deliberately attacked you. Athos chose a punishment that would have humiliated you in front of the entire garrison.”

“I. Don’t. Care. I don’t care. I don’t care that they hurt me, that Porthos… that d’Artagnan… I don’t care. It doesn’t matter. You aren’t doing this.” By the time Aramis stopped he was panting, his hands gripping the edge of the table as he leaned toward the other man. 

“Alright. Alright,” Treville said, holding up his hands in defeat. He had not expected such a vehement response from the man, though he probably should have. No matter what, Aramis protected his brothers whether they were altogether deserving of that protection or not. After all he had been through, Treville would not continue to fight him on it. He knew his own mind. If he said to let the matter lie, then that was what he would do.

“I’m sorry, Captain. I know you mean well, but I will not allow them to suffer even more because of me.”

“Because of you?”

“This thing, it wants me or rather to destroy me. It chose to use them to accomplish this end, therefore I am the one who truly is to blame here.”

“Now which of us is being pig headed?” Treville asked, shaking his head. “I will not press this but I do have one final question for you. Are you sure you feel up to returning to duty?”

“Yes,” Aramis said. “I am still a bit tender here and there but overall I am fine.”

“Very well then. We’d better get going before Athos sends someone round to fetch us.”

&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M

“There are some things we three need to discuss,” Athos said as they made their way to the garrison.

“What is it?” Porthos asked warily.

“First of all, when Michel came by yesterday he cautioned me about allowing this thing, whatever it may be, to drive us apart,” Athos explained. “Aramis believes it is somehow connected to Bathory or the source of her power and I fear he may be right. If he is then it is him that it is after. We cannot allow it to drive a wedge between us.”

“We cannot force our presence on him, not after…”

“What we cannot do is leave him unguarded,” Athos told him. “Not if we want him to survive this. I believe Michel is correct. This thing means to destroy him and will not stop until it has done so. I will not stand by and watch my lover be taken by something that has no right to exist in the first place. Are you going to stand with me or not?”

“You know I am,” Porthos growled. The thought of Aramis falling to this thing, whether it was some remnant of Bathory’s evil or not, was abhorrent. He would die before he allowed that to happen and he knew the Whelp felt the same.

“Alright,” Athos said. A quick glance at d’Artagnan showed an answering resolve and he felt the cold knot of worry in his stomach ease. It did not give way altogether. It would not until this business was over and done with, but just knowing his brothers would stand with him in this made facing it infinitely easier to bear.

“There is but one more thing we need to discuss,” d’Artagnan said. He saw Athos give him a look but he knew they were not doing Porthos any favors trying to keep this from him.

“You are right,” Athos relented then turned to Porthos once more. “Treville summoned d’Artagnan and I to his office yesterday evening. That was one of the reasons Aramis grew so distraught. We left, expecting you to be home any minute.”

Porthos looked away, ashamed again of his actions. He had not known he had been deserting Aramis. He had thought the others with him. “What did the Captain want?” he asked after a moment.

“It would seem I left the Dereliction of Duty paperwork on his desk,” Athos said. “He was less than pleased when he discovered it and demanded an accounting.”

Porthos felt his blood run cold at Athos’ words. That did not bode well for any of them. Granted, they might not have been in their right minds at the time, but that still didn’t excuse their actions. Assuming, of course, that Treville even believed them. The Captain’s rather uncharacteristic visit took on a whole new meaning now and Porthos found himself turning back toward their house without thinking.

“No, brother,” Athos said, clasping his shoulder. “Whatever he decides, I will accept.”

“You will?” Porthos asked incredulously.

“Treville is holding Athos accountable,” d’Artagnan spat, his disgust clear. 

“I was the one in charge, d’Artagnan. In the end, the responsibility was mine.”

“You should not be made to pay for our mistakes. Again.”

“It will be alright, Whelp,” Athos said, moving closer to the younger man until their shoulders brushed. “As I told you before, a bit less pay means little to me.”

“Someone want to tell me what I’m missing here?” Porthos asked. This didn’t sound like one of their normal reprimands. A week or so of scut work didn’t normally come with a loss of pay.

“Treville is going to demote him,” d’Artagnan said miserably.

“He might,” Athos corrected. “He has not said for certain yet.”

“What? He can’t do that!” Porthos nearly shouted.

“I assure you, Porthos, he can. And as I told d’Artagnan, if he does, he does. A bit less pay is irrelevant.”

“It isn’t the fucking pay, Athos, so stop acting like that’s the only thing that matters.”

“Well, it’s the only thing that should,” Athos countered. “What pauldron I wear is nothing more than hubris. Perhaps Aramis’ God feels I am in need of a lesson in humility.”

“Being proud of making something of yourself isn’t vanity, brother,” Porthos said. “Because if it is, I’m a hell of a lot more guilty of it than you are. I thought earning my commission showed the world I was more than just another thief from the Court. Turns out I’m worse.”

“Stop that,” Athos admonished. “Feeling sorry for yourself helps no one. And you should be proud of yourself, Porthos. Most of the men here, they came from families with names and money that assured they were able to establish themselves. You had neither yet you have become one of the finest of the King’s Musketeers. You have had to fight and scrape for every bit of respect but you refused to back down. You have earned your place here a dozen times over and you have every right to be proud of that.”

“He is right, Porthos,” d’Artagnan added. “You deserve that pauldron on your shoulder and you deserve the recognition that goes along with it. You should be proud of what you’ve earned.”

“You have a right to be proud of what you have earned as well, d’Artagnan,” Athos said choosing his words carefully.

“I am,” d’Artagnan replied. “I have always been proud of being one of… of being a Musketeer. That the King found me worthy of a commission…”

“That is not what I meant and you know it,” Athos said. “Will you not even call yourself one of us now? Have you already withdrawn so far from us that we have no hope to reach you?”

“Athos… I…”

“You speak of the King finding you worthy,” Athos continued. “We all know you could not care less about the King’s opinion. You barely even look at us, at any of us, not just Aramis. I know this is hard for you. I know you feel your betrayal of him like bloody wounds to your soul, but please, please d’Artagnan, do not let this pull you from us all.”

“We know you’re hurtin’, lad,” Porthos put in. “We ain’t blind. We can see you practically bleeding out right in front of us. Let us help you. Yeah? Aramis, he’s gonna get past this and when he does he’s gonna want his Master back.”

“No,” d’Artagnan said in a hard, clipped voice. “He made it clear that his Master is no longer welcome in his presence.”

“Fine,” Athos said, holding up a hand to stop Porthos from arguing. They could hash that out later. Right now he just wanted to stop d’Artagnan from slipping away from them. “That is between you and Aramis. But Porthos is right about one thing. Aramis is going to get past this and when he does he is going to want his lovers back. All of his lovers. That includes you.”

“I disagree but I do not wish to argue this with you,” d’Artagnan said stubbornly.

“You are the most stubborn…” Porthos muttered.

“Fine,” Athos said, doing his best to keep his growing annoyance in check. “I want my lover back. Is that good enough for you?”

“I cannot see how you want such a thing,” d’Artagnan whispered. “Not after what I did.”

“We all hurt him, lad. All of us. What you did, it was no worse than anything we did. Hell, boy, it wasn’t anywhere near as bad as what I did to him.”

“I disagree,” d’Artagnan said. “I know you… you hurt him. But I cowed him. I made him call me Master. I threatened to hurt his friend if he didn’t…”

“I _raped_ him,” Porthos snarled. 

“Alright, that’s enough,” Athos said, looking around the garrison warily to make sure no one had overheard their conversation. 

“Porthos, that wasn’t you. He knows that. And he will never hold that against you. How either of you can even stand the sight of me knowing what I did to him, how I made him…”

“D’Artagnan, listen to yourself,” Athos said, exasperated and worried at the same time. “You were no more at fault than Porthos. You were being influenced the same as he was, the same as I was. Damn it, I am not going to lose you. Not now. Not like this.”

“What does it matter?” D’Artagnan asked, pain lacing his every word.

“What?” Athos gasped.

“What does it matter if I go or stay?” D’Artagnan repeated. He had no idea that his words were almost exactly the same as those Aramis had spoken to Athos. “You have Aramis. He has not forsaken you, nor will he. His devotion to you is as steadfast today as it ever was. Do not mistake me, Athos. I am glad for that. I would not change that for… for anything.”

“And because of this, because I am fortunate enough to still have some fraction of Aramis’ love, you think it no longer matters to me if you are a part of my life? Have you lost your bloody mind?”

“No, I am actually thinking clearly for the first time, I believe,” d’Artagnan said. “I know you care for me, Athos. But we all know what Aramis means to you. If we had not before now, well these last few days have certainly shown us… shown me. I love you dearly. You and Porthos both. But…”

“But what?” Athos snapped. “You made a mistake so rather than own up to that like a man you prefer to run and hide, tail tucked between your legs like an undisciplined boy? Have you no more honor than that? Perhaps it is best your father isn’t here to see the man you’ve become. Or should I say have _not_ become.”

“Athos!” Porthos yelled, grabbing the man by the arm and giving him a shake. He couldn’t believe he had spoken to the boy like that. They both knew he was struggling, but berating him certainly wasn’t the answer. It would only end up causing the boy to pull even further away. 

“Fuck you!” D’Artagnan snarled, his hands balling into fists. He felt rage welling within him and had to fight not to take a swing at Athos then and there. He shoved between the other two, causing them to stumble backward, as he stormed through the entrance of the garrison.

&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M

The entity pushed with everything it had, concentrating all of its power on the three men as they neared the gate. It could feel them drawing closer, their emotions calling to it as a siren to a sailor lost at sea. It could feel the strain trying to reach so far was causing. It was not strong enough yet. They were too far away. Yet, at the same time, they were _right there_. 

It could feel them.

It could feel their confusion.

Their desperation.

Their anger.

All it had to do was reach. 

The boy was the key. His emotions were volatile. Much more so than those of the others, even the Seminarian. He was young, untested by time, and he knew fear. So much fear. Fear and loss. It was all wound up inside of him. It made him easy to manipulate, easy to twist and warp until all he knew was rage.

&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M

Aramis moved through the streets like a man with a purpose. He knew Treville was following behind him but largely ignored him. He was still livid, livid that the man would even suggest punishing any of his brothers for what had happened, but that he would single out Athos was even worse.

Athos had done nothing to merit punishment of any sort but for the Captain to threaten to demote him was sickening. Aramis knew how much Athos’ position meant to him. He knew how proud the man was of all he had made of himself after the ruin his former wife had made of his life. For the Captain to threaten to take that from him… Aramis would not allow that to happen. Not because of him.

When he stalked through the gate, he saw his brothers at the foot of the stairs next to their table just as he expected to. What he had not expected, however, was to see the anger on their faces. D’Artagnan and Athos looked ready to come to blows, only Porthos’ intervention stopping them. The scene was enough to bring Aramis to a halt and he stood there staring at the strained tableau until Treville came to a stop beside him.

“Aramis, report to the infirmary,” Treville said firmly, his eyes taking in the other three men. It was a testament to how thrown Aramis was that he did as he was told without a word, cutting as wide a path around the table as possible as he did so.

“‘Mis?” Porthos called out when he saw Aramis head toward the infirmary.

“You three,” Treville barked before any of them could say any more. “My office. Now.” With that, he strode forward, leading the way up the stairs at a brisk pace, making it clear that he expected the three of them to follow, and leaving them little choice but to do so.

Once again Athos found himself closing the door to the Captain’s office with no small amount of trepidation. The Captain did not appear to be as angry as he had been before, but Athos knew how deceiving looks could be and Treville was a master at such things. As he moved to stand before the man’s desk, he felt his head throb. The pain was gone almost as soon as it began but it was enough to make Athos pause. He had not had a headache since that week, the one leading up to their attack on Aramis. 

“Athos?” D’Artagnan called as a wave of nausea hit him. He swayed on his feet, clutching his stomach, as he fought the urge to be sick. 

“What is it?” Treville asked sharply as he eyed the three men. “What’s wrong?”

“Don’t feel right,” Porthos answered. For a moment, the room had gone dark and hazy, as if he was looking through a cloud of smoke. It reminded him of before, of those days when he was angry all the time and Aramis had been his target of choice.

“You don’t feel right how?” Treville pressed, his hand slowly reaching toward the drawer of his desk. He knew Athos was aware of what he kept within it but at the moment the man did not appear overly aware of much going on around him save his two brothers. 

“It is similar to before,” Athos explained. “Though I believe it has passed. My head began to hurt. From d’Artagnan’s reaction I can only assume he felt ill. Porthos…”

“Everything was hazy, like I was looking through smoke or something,” he replied.

“But it’s gone now?” Treville asked, going so far as to open the drawer and pull out the pistol within. 

“Yes,” Athos nodded. “As has the anger that had us in its grip. I believe that is why our discussion turned so… why I said the things I did. Whatever is in that shed, it can obviously still affect us. We are not immune. No one is save possibly Aramis, though I do not know how long that might hold true.”

“But how did we shake it off this time?” Porthos asked.

“I don’t know,” Athos replied. “Perhaps it cannot reach so far yet. Remember, it did not affect me until the end. I can only assume it was because I was hardly ever in close proximity to it. But it will continue to grow stronger. Eventually it will be able to extend its reach beyond the confines of the garrison. We have to find a way to destroy it before that happens.”

“And we will,” Treville said. “Michel is working on that. I am sure he will figure something out. If not how to destroy it then at least how to contain it. In the meantime, I believe you have an investigation to attend to.”

“Yes, Sir,” d’Artagnan said.

“Sir…” Porthos began, trailing off. He couldn’t just leave. Not after what Athos told him. He had to at least try to talk to the Captain, to get him to listen. 

“Yes, Porthos? Something you wanted to say?”

“Sir,” Porthos began again. He glanced at Athos then looked back at Treville. “Sir, the charges against Aramis, that was all me and the Whelp. Athos didn’t have anything to do with it.”

“Porthos…” Athos said, shaking his head. He did not need to do this. Athos would accept whatever fate Treville handed to him. Especially if it kept his brothers from suffering such in his place.

“I am aware of that, Porthos,” Treville said. “However, as I have already explained, Athos was in charge. It was his duty to protect Aramis and he failed in that duty when he allowed the two of you to lay false charges against him.”

“Athos didn't fail anyone. It was us. And that damn shed… entity… thing, whatever…”

“Porthos, calm yourself,” Athos said. “It is done, brother. Treville is aware of all of that, but he must do what is right. He has a duty, to Aramis and to the regiment as a whole. He will not fail in that duty, unlike me.”

“I don’t want to have to demote you, Athos,” Treville said. “Yet we both know it is warranted here.”

“Yes, Sir,” Athos said. He saw Porthos start to object and laid a hand on his shoulder.

“However, Aramis has made his wishes in this regard quite clear. Quite clear. And since I have no desire to be murdered in my sleep, any consequences from the incident are rescinded.” Treville saw the confusion on the men’s faces and smiled a bit sadly. “Aramis will not see his brothers punished for something that was not of their doing. He was quite adamant about that.”

“After all we have done, still his loyalty is unwavering,” Athos said.

“As will it always be,” Treville commented. “I do not know a single thing any of you could do to make it otherwise. Now, you three have an investigation to continue. You best get to it.”

“What about Aramis?” D’Artagnan asked, not liking the idea of just leaving him here.

“Aramis is going to be working in the infirmary for a few days. I want to see how well this new recruit really is. Francois, wasn’t it?”

“Yes, Sir,” Athos replied.

“I want to see how much of a medic this Francois might be. After that, we’ll see. Now get out of my office.”

&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M

“Aramis!” Francois greeted when the man walked into the infirmary. He had not seen the Musketeer in days and had been starting to worry. The Captain had assured him that he was fine, telling him he had checked on the man himself, but Francois had still been concerned. He had started to speak to the Captain about them, but had remembered how Athos had reacted and had hesitated. Now, seeing Aramis’ face, he wished he hadn’t.

“It is good to see you, too, my friend,” Aramis said, smiling brightly for what felt like the first time in weeks. He was somewhat surprised by Francois’ enthusiastic greeting. He would not have thought himself to be missed quite so badly.

“Sorry,” Francois said, ducking his head, his cheeks coloring enough to match his hair.

“Do not apologize,” Aramis said. “It is nice to know one is missed. I’m sorry I was away for so long. I had not intended to be. How have things been?”

“I’ve been getting along alright,” Francois replied. “A couple of the other Musketeers have taken to training me so I can spend more time working in here.”

“Oh? That’s good to hear. How have you found working in the infirmary?”

“Truthfully?” Francois asked. When Aramis frowned and nodded, he took a deep breath and went on. “Difficult. I… I don’t know what to do. And there’s no one here to really ask. I…”

“Ah,” Aramis said. “You do not know what to do and you are afraid of the consequences if you do the wrong thing.”

“Yes,” Francois said, breathing a sigh of relief that Aramis understood.

“That, my friend, will never change,” Aramis told him gently. “You will always worry about the consequences. You will always be afraid of what might happen if you do the wrong thing, make the wrong choice. It is the nature of the profession and the nature of those that choose such a calling.”

“How do you live with it?”

“Time and experience. You cannot know everything. You cannot always be right. You cannot save everyone. Those are simply the facts. You must accept them. The sooner you do so, the sooner you will be able to sleep at night.

“On the battlefield, should you ever find yourself on one, you will not be able to treat every man that falls. You will have to make decisions. Who to treat first. Who can be saved. Who lives. Who doesn’t. It is a horrible thing, to have to decide who lives and who dies. But if you do not, if you do nothing, then everyone dies. You save who you can and you console yourself with the knowledge that these men would not be alive had you not been there.”

“But I don’t know how to do these things,” Francois said, growing more and more upset. He couldn’t do these things. He didn’t know how. He had been studying the books Aramis had here but it wasn’t something he could really learn from a book. He needed a teacher. 

“I’ll show you,” Aramis told him soothingly. “I’m back now and I can teach you. You’ve been studying yourself. It’s why the men were taking time out to train you, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” he nodded. “I’ve read your books. The ones I could, at least. I can’t read Latin. Claude and Sebastian saw me studying in here so they started training with me in the evenings after most of the men left. Said they couldn’t have their new medic getting himself killed because he couldn’t use a sword.”

“And they are quite right. We will be making time for proper training as well, including muskets. But for now, let’s work on the basics.”

“Whatever you say,” Francois grinned. Whatever the man wanted to work on was fine with him. He was just happy to have Aramis back.

Aramis went to the books on the shelf and pulled out one of the Latin ones the lad hadn’t been able to read. It was quite useful, as was Latin itself. If he truly wanted to learn medicine, he was going to need to know it. It really wasn’t all that hard once one learned the basics. Aramis saw no reason why he could not teach him that as well.

Gathering up his courage, Francois asked the question that had been burning in him ever since he got a good look at Aramis’ face. “Was it Porthos or d’Artagnan that hit you?” 

Aramis froze half way to pulling a book from the shelf. “I beg your pardon,” he said, his voice suddenly brittle. “I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Your face,” Francois pressed. “One of them struck you. Or was it Athos? I didn’t think he would but after what he said to me…”

&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M

Reluctantly, Porthos, Athos and d’Artagnan left the garrison to continue their investigation. That they were doing so without Aramis did not set particularly well with them but they knew better than to cross the Captain in this. They were lucky to be getting off as lightly as they were and it was only thanks to Aramis’ insistence at that. If they pushed it, the Captain could easily change his mind. 

As they made their way toward the inner part of the city, each of them could not help but think back on their earlier conversation. Or rather argument in Athos’ and d’Artagnan’s case. Even knowing that whatever evil lay growing in the shed had likely fueled their words, that they said such things at all to one another was like a bitter gall.

Finally, having kept silent as long as he could stand to, Athos halted his companions. “D’Artagnan, I’m sorry,” he said. “I did not mean what I said to you back at the garrison. I would never speak so disrespectfully to you, especially of your father. I hope you can forgive me.”

“Athos, it was not your fault,” d’Artagnan said, dismissing the man’s apology. 

“Whether it was my fault or not is irrelevant,” Athos said. “It does not change the fact that I said it. Nor does it change the hurt that my careless words caused. Please believe that I did not mean them.”

“Yes, you did,” d’Artagnan said softly. “And you were right. I was being a coward. I know I have ruined what lay between Aramis and I. It is hard for me to accept that I have not done so between us as well because of it.”

“You made a mistake, d’Artagnan,” Athos tried to reason. “The same mistake we did… I did. If you believe Aramis able to forgive me why are you so certain he can never forgive you?”

“Athos is right, lad,” Porthos added, trying to get through to him. “You didn’t even put your hands on him. Not really. Not like we did.”

“No,” d’Artagnan agreed. “But it is different. What is between us is different. It is because of this, because of how I betrayed him using it, that I know he won’t be able to. As always, I take him on whatever terms he dictates and am honored to do so.”

“You’re wrong,” Athos said. “I only wish I had the words to make you see that.”

“Yeah,” Porthos agreed. “Meantime, stop pulling away from us. We know you’re hurtin’, same as we are. Stop trying to curl up in a corner someplace lickin’ your wounds.”

“I just wanted to give you and Athos some time together,” d’Artagnan offered weakly.

“Bullshit,” Porthos told him. 

“We can be together without you being apart from us,” Athos put in gently. 

“Alright,” d’Artagnan agreed. He would try. It was the best he could do. He knew they understood as much. To hide, to shield his heart from hurt, was his way but he would change that if his brothers asked it of him. 

&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M

Walking out onto the balcony outside his office, Treville was pleased to see Aramis and Francois sitting at the table at the foot of the stairs. It was good to see Aramis in the garrison once more and even better to see the man at ease, though it pained him that he could not be so with his brothers. Treville knew that would come in time. Those four men were the most stubborn men God had saw fit to put on the face of this Earth. They would not let what they had found together go without a fight. 

It didn’t take long for Aramis to feel eyes on him. Glancing up at the balcony, he saw the Captain watching them. The man nodded his head toward his office and Aramis tipped his own in silent reply. A moment later, he watched the Captain disappear back into his office as he and Francois finished their noon meal.

“Come along,” Aramis said once their meal was done and began heading up the stairs to Treville’s office. He smiled to himself when Francois followed behind him without so much as a word of question. The boy trusted him, perhaps more than he should. He was not, after all, being completely forthcoming with him. 

Aramis and Francois stood before the desk inside Treville’s office, waiting for the man to speak. Aramis had to bite his lip not to smile as the Captain went about seeing how much he could make the young man squirm. It was undoubtedly one of the man’s favorite things to do. He had certainly done it to him often enough, to the point that Aramis had actually grown rather fond of it much to Treville’s consternation.

“Captain, enough already,” Aramis chuckled, unable to take any more. He was making the boy genuinely uncomfortable without cause.

“Alright,” Treville grinned. “Have a seat, you two.” He sat down behind his desk and regarded the two again. Aramis looked at ease, in his element in a way he had not in a long time. Francois, while still somewhat pensive, seemed to be taking his cues from Aramis and appeared as relaxed as a recruit in his office could ever hope to be.

“You wanted to speak with us, Captain?” Aramis prompted, not wanting to give Francois a chance to get nervous again. Recruits never did take well to being called into the Captain’s office, nor should they for it rarely heralded anything good, but he really did not see the point of worrying the boy needlessly. If something needed to be addressed then Treville could take it up with him and he would handle things with Francois personally.

“Peace, Aramis,” Treville said. He was the one having to bite his lip to keep from smiling at the other’s antics now. Aramis had certainly become protective of the young man rather quickly. Of course, Aramis was always protective of the younger ones. It was one of the things that made him such a good field medic. He always cared. 

“I wanted to speak to Francois about his plans with the regiment,” Treville went on.

“Sir?” Francois frowned, not understanding.

“You seem to be doing rather well in the infirmary,” Treville offered. “I wondered if you might not be interested in taking that as a permanent assignment.”

“Oh,” Francois said. He looked back and forth between Aramis and Treville, unsure what to say. “I… I would like to. That is… if you would ever have need. I mean, I know Aramis is here so…”

“We always have need of a medic,” Aramis put in quietly. 

“And while he may be stationed at the garrison at the moment, Aramis is usually out on one assignment or another. He is here between assignments. We need someone that would be willing to be remain here.”

“And you think I could do this?” Francois asked. If he had learned nothing else from Aramis, he had learned to state himself plainly. 

“With the proper training, yes,” Treville said, impressed by the young man’s forthright question. “I would have you apprentice to Aramis until such time as he felt you were ready to be on your own.”

“Apprentice?” Aramis piped up before Francois could say anything. “Captain, I’m not altogether sure that’s wise. I mean…”

“And that is why I am the Captain and you are not,” Treville told him.

“Sir, if Aramis does not wish…” Francois began, flushing slightly. He had no wish to be a burden and even less to be foisted off on Aramis by the Captain. If the man did not want him as an apprentice then Francois would not accept the post.

“It isn’t that,” Aramis said, raking his hand through his hair. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly then nodded at Treville. “You are wise as always, Captain. Francois will make an excellent apprentice. However, there are some few things that he is not aware of. If he does not wish to apprentice to me after I have explained everything, then we shall speak no more of this. Agreed?”

“Agreed,” Treville said firmly. “But I do not believe you have much to worry about.”

Francois waited until they were alone in the infirmary once more before turning to Aramis questioningly. “What is it you’re not telling me?” he asked boldly. “It is about them? About what they’ve been doing to you?”

“No,” Aramis said, shaking his head fondly before stopping and thinking for a moment. “And, in a manner, yes.”

“Stop talking in circles.”

“I’m not,” Aramis said. “Come. Sit down. This will take some time to explain and even more time to believe. I am not talking in circles as you put it to try to be inscrutable or mysterious or anything like that. My answer is correct. No and, at the same time, yes.”

His frown deepening, Francois sat down next to Aramis, his attention focused on the man the same way it was when Aramis was trying to teach him something new. Every one of his senses was trained on the man and he did not care for what they were telling him. Whatever it was Aramis had to say, it troubled him. Greatly.

“First off all, my brothers have not been doing anything to me,” Aramis said as he poured them both a mug of wine. “At least not of their own accord.”

“I find it hard to believe anyone could manage to force those three into doing something they did not wish to, least of all hurt you,” Francois challenged.

“I did not say it was a person,” Aramis offered, curious to see how this opening gambit would be taken.

“Come again?” Francois asked, truly puzzled now. 

“You know, most would have at least backed away at such a statement,” Aramis said offhandedly. 

“Had any other man said such a think I likely would have.”

“Trust me, do you?”

“Yes,” Francois said then looked away when he felt himself blush again.

“That’s good,” Aramis said. “I’m going to need you to trust me a very great deal. What I am going to tell you, only my brothers, Treville, Constance and Father Michel know of. Of those that know, only my brothers know the whole of it. I will not be telling you the whole of it now, only enough so that your ignorance does not endanger you. If you no longer wish to associate with me…”

“Don’t be stupid,” Francois said then snapped his mouth shut. 

“Well,” Aramis chuckled. “Let’s at least wait until I’ve told you before making any decisions.” Slowly, Aramis began his tale. He started with the ruins, giving him an idea of the evil they had faced, of the evil that existed in the world unseen by the eyes of man. He didn’t go into detail, did not reveal what Porthos had tried to do while possessed, nor did he reveal the changing nature of his relationships. That was most certainly not the lad’s business and, if it did not send him packing, it could very well get him the noose if they were ever found out. It was best for everyone if he remained as unaware as possible in that regard.

Aramis told him of Bathory next. He told him of investigating the missing girls and of what they had ultimately discovered. “She wanted me to be her acolyte,” he said. “I was… resistant.”

“Is that what happened to your face?” Francois asked.

“Yes,” Aramis replied, his hand going to his cheek unintentionally. He started when he felt Francois’ hand on his arm, pulling it back down. 

“It’s not so bad, really,” Francois remarked as he studied the scars with the medic’s eye Aramis had been trying to instill in him. “The cuts were even, if deep. The stitching could have been a bit smaller, though.”

“Yes,” Aramis smiled. “Athos always had a problem with making his stitches too big. In his defense, I was rather in shock and the wound had been left open far too long as it was.” 

The air grew silent as Francois thought about what Aramis had told him and Aramis struggled to leave those memories in the past where they belonged. “That isn’t the only thing that happened while she had you, was it?” Francois asked, breaking the heavy stillness that had fallen.

“No,” Aramis said, his voice a bit strangled. He took a long drink of his wine and refilled his mug. “No. It was not, though it was the worst of it. From a medical perspective, at least.”

“What other perspective is there?”

Aramis cocked his head and looked up through the disheveled hair that had fallen down over his eyes at the young man. He looked so very earnest that it hurt Aramis’ heart. He didn’t want to tell him of this. He didn’t want to tell this boy that the monster under his bed was real. He didn’t want to tell him of evil and demons. But how could he, in all good faith, not? 

“She made me brand myself with her familial crest,” Aramis said watching Francois closely for his reaction. 

“What?” Francois gasped, his face paling at the thought of such cruelty being inflicted on this man. He felt his stomach start to rebel and had to fight to keep from throwing up the wine he had drunk.

“Francois?” Aramis called in alarm, reaching for the younger man’s arm then stopping himself, suddenly unsure if his touch would still be welcome. He did not have to wonder for long as Francois grabbed his arm before he could pull it back.

“Please tell me that demon-whore is dead,” he said, his voice low and hard in a way Aramis had never heard it before. 

“Ah, yes,” Aramis said, thrown by the fierceness of Francois’ reaction. “My brothers took care of it. D’Artagnan, he cut her head off actually.”

“Good,” Francois said before snatching his mug up and downing the contents in one long gulp before looking back at Aramis. “Now tell me why you have told me of this.”

“Must there be a reason?” Aramis stalled. This was not how he had expected this conversation to go and he was scrambling to figure out how much to say and how much to keep to himself. He was walking a very fine line and he knew it. Reveal too much and he risked revealing the rather unique relationship he shared with his brothers. Reveal too little and Francois could find himself in danger without realizing it until it was too late. 

Francois eyed the other man appraisingly. “You do nothing without a reason, Aramis. This much I have managed to learn. Now out with it.”

“Oh you will make a fine Musketeer,” Aramis remarked. “But you are right. There is a reason I am telling you all of this. My brothers, while they did destroy Bathory, not all of her evil died with her. I told you of the tests I set up in the shed. It would seem that whatever I brought back with me… I don’t even know. It was not alive, yet it is most certainly alive now.”

“Alive? Alive how?”

“Something evil lies within that shed and it is growing. I don’t know if it survived due to the blood I brought back with me or if I carried some of her taint with me and…”

“You are not to blame,” Francois said at once.

“How can you say that? If nothing else, I am the reason that shed is even here. I brought the blood back with me. I…”

“If this evil you speak of truly exists, and I believe that it does, then it would have found a way. That you brought back some bits of blood is not the cause of this. It did not need your help to find a new lair.”

“You believe me,” Aramis said, astonished. He had been prepared for at least some skepticism from the lad. Francois, however, appeared to take him at his word, in this as in everything else. 

“You would not mislead me. Especially in something like this. Is this… why?”

“Why?”

“Why they hurt you?” he asked softly. He didn’t want to pry into Aramis’ private life but he needed to know how much of a danger the three still posed to the man. If it was not safe for Aramis to go home then he would find him somewhere else to stay. His father had already said the Musketeer was welcome to stay with them.

Aramis was torn. He didn’t want to admit that his brothers had been the ones to hurt him, yet he had already done as much in a roundabout way. Still, it felt like a betrayal to speak of this to one outside of their group. Treville and Constance were one thing. Even Michel was acceptable considering how embroiled he had become with their fight against Bathory. This, though, was different. This was someone wholly outside of their group and another Musketeer to boot. 

“If you do not wish to speak of it, you do not have to,” Francois said when Aramis failed to reply. “I only ask to know if they remain a threat to you. Please know that if at any time you need a place to stay, a… a safe place, my father would welcome you into his home.”

“You are a most generous man, as is your father,” Aramis said. He closed his eyes for a moment, steeling himself then slowly opened them. “To answer your question, yes, that is why they hurt me. The entity that is growing within the shed, it had been exerting its influence on them for some time. It began with Porthos then began to affect d’Artagnan as well.”

“What of Athos?”

“It did not seem to affect him until the very end. We have surmised that proximity is an issue. Since Athos spent most of his time in his office, he had the least contact with it. Still, at the end, he turned on me, too.”

“I’m sorry,” Francois said sincerely. 

“Thank you,” Aramis replied. “And thanks to the Captain’s timely arrival, the damage was minimal. I am almost completely healed.”

“I doubt it is the bruising on your face, but rather the bruises on your heart that are paining you the most. I fear they will for a very long time. Your brothers… had it been anyone else, even the Captain, the damage would not have been near so great. I wish I could undo it somehow.”

“We always wish we could protect those we care about from the hurts of the world, yet it is those very hurts that shape them into the people they are.”

“As a youth maybe, but you are not a boy learning to be a man anymore.”

“Then perhaps I have not yet become the man I am to be.”

&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M

When the three returned to the garrison, they were in high spirits. They had a viable lead on the kidnappers. If it proved true, it would give them a place to lay in wait for the men, greatly decreasing their search area and thus increasing their chance of actually finding and stopping them. 

Porthos was grinning broadly when they all but bounded through the gate. He saw Aramis leaning against the doorway to the infirmary, his back to the yard. He stopped for a moment, taking in the sight of his lover standing there in nothing but his shirt, his braces hanging low. That he felt confident enough to leave his back open and exposed like this let him see a brief glimpse of the man his lover used to be, the man Porthos prayed every night he would be again.

“It’s good to see him so relaxed,” Athos said, clapping Porthos on the shoulder. 

“Yeah. Just wish he could be that relaxed around us,” Porthos sighed.

“In time, brother,” Athos replied. “Every day it gets better, his trust in us grows. That does not make the waiting any easier, though, I know.”

Porthos was about to say more when Aramis threw back his head and laughed loudly. He stepped more fully into the infirmary then and emerged a moment later, his arm thrown around Francois’ shoulders. Both men were chuckling as Aramis leaned in close and said something only the boy could hear. 

“Steady,” Athos said softly. He could practically feel the sudden wave of jealousy that hit his brothers at the sight of Aramis so close to another. In truth, he felt a twinge of it himself but he steadfastly ignored it. He knew what he was seeing was innocuous, but it still stung. And that sting had to be so much worse for Porthos and d’Artagnan.

Aramis was halfway to table when he looked up and saw his brothers watching him intently. He could feel the weight of their eyes on him and froze. He felt Francois go stiff beneath his arm and gave his shoulder a quick squeeze. 

“They are no threat to me,” Aramis whispered. “You know this.”

“I know that is what we hope,” Francois countered, forcing himself to relax. “But we do not know that they are immune to whatever had them in its grip before.”

“I thank you for your diligence, my friend,” Aramis said, giving his shoulders a final squeeze before removing his arm. “But my brothers are no threat to me. Why don’t you go and gather our things from the infirmary, alright?”

“Alright,” Francois agreed. They were in the middle of the garrison after all. Aramis had but to call out and any number of their brothers would come to his aid at once. He did not think whatever evil was within that shed would be foolish enough to try something so brazen.

Aramis waited until the young man had disappeared back into the infirmary before turning back to his brothers. “How did you fare today?” He could see that they were in a rather upbeat mood for once and hoped that meant they had made some headway.

“Good,” Athos replied. 

“Yeah,” Porthos said, shaking off his bout of jealousy. He was merely helping the boy, same as he would any other promising recruit. “We got a lead. A good one.”

“Porthos is right. If our luck holds, we’ll be able to put a stop to these men soon.”

“That is good news,” Aramis said as he walked over to stand beside them.

“As soon as we report in to the Captain, we can head home,” Athos said.

“Excellent,” Aramis replied then turned back to the young man just walking up beside him. “Francois, I’ll see you bright and early in the infirmary.”

“Yes, Sir,” Francois grinned brightly. He headed for the gate then turned back to look at Aramis, still smiling. “I can’t wait to tell my father.”

“Give him my regards,” Aramis called, smiling just as widely, Francois’ happiness infectious. 

“What’s he on about?” Porthos asked half way up the stairs to Treville’s office.

“I’ll explain at home,” Aramis said. 

In the Captain’s office, they quickly brought him up to date and he agreed with their plan to lay in wait for the men. Athos started to broach the subject of Aramis joining them but Treville only shook his head, saying the man had other duties to attend to at the moment.

“Give it tomorrow. We’ll see where you are. If you still haven’t found these men, I’ll see about sending him out with you.”

“Yes, Sir,” Athos said, knowing when to leave well enough alone. 

Aramis was waiting for them at the foot of the stairs, sitting at their usual table. He was excited to tell his brothers about Treville making Francois his apprentice but he was nervous as well. He’d never had an apprentice before. He wanted to do right by the boy, to take him in hand and teach him as Athos had done d’Artagnan. He only hoped he was up to the task.

“Ready?” Aramis asked, standing. If he was honest with himself, as much as he needed the time away, the space to heal, he had missed his brothers today. 

“More than,” Porthos replied, heartened by Aramis’ apparent eagerness. To see the man moving toward them rather than backing away calmed some of the fear that still lived within him, refusing to die.

The walk home was quick, the four men moving through the streets with a purpose. The three of them had felt Aramis’ absence all day and it appeared he had felt theirs just as keenly. Once home, Aramis hung up his weapons then headed for the kitchen out of habit. 

“Why don’t you let me do that tonight?” D’Artagnan offered hopefully. It was one of the things he berated himself for the most, that they had reduced Aramis to acting as their servant. He understood that it was a reflex now, that the man didn’t even realize he was doing it until it was done, but it still shamed him to know they had done this.

“Oh it’s no trouble,” Aramis said, tensing.

“D’Artagnan, leave him be,” Athos said, finally understanding what Aramis’ insistence truly was and why he was so resistant to allowing anyone else to take over this particular duty.

“Athos?” D’Artagnan frowned though he did move back from Aramis.

“We shall be in the sitting room,” Athos said, motioning for his brothers to go. He saw them hesitate and breathed a sigh of relief when they silently obeyed. “If you have need of us, love, you have but to call.”

“Thank you,” Aramis said. “I’ll call you when dinner is ready. You’ve got about an hour.”

Walking into the sitting room, Athos held up his hand forestalling d’Artagnan before he could start. “I know,” he said as he sat down on the sofa with them. “But this… it is his control. When everything in his life was turning upside down, this was one of the only things he could still control. He is not ready to cede that control yet. We must be patient.”

“He isn’t our bloody servant,” Porthos said angrily.

“No, and in time he will believe that again,” Athos said, his weary voice filled with sadness. 

Aramis knew this insistence on preparing their meals was unnecessary, bordering on irrational. That knowledge did little to quell the sudden spike of fear he felt whenever one of the others so much as suggested taking over the duty. He knew it worried them, especially Porthos and d’Artagnan. They felt responsible, as though their previous behavior had caused this. That they were not wrong, that he could not reassure them of such, only reinforced their guilt. He wished he could do something, offer them something, but it would be a lie and he refused to lie to his brothers. 

He remembered what Michel had counseled when he had first spoken to him of it. Of how it had made him feel. After that, he had embraced it as his duty to his brothers, his duty of care. He still felt that way, that this was his duty. That it was God’s way of finally ridding him of the incessant pride he had stubbornly refused to relinquish. He would pray over it again tonight and seek God’s guidance once more. In the meantime, he had supper to prepare.

Dinner ended up being more relaxing than they would have thought. Aramis was once more in high spirits by the time he called them to eat and they did their best to follow his example. “You had a good day, I take it,” Athos said as they sat around the table after dinner.

“I did,” Aramis replied, smiling. He paused, savoring the news before telling his brothers. “Treville has named Francois my apprentice.”

“He did?” Porthos asked before he could stop himself. He didn't mean to sound so incredulous. It was not that Treville had named the boy as Aramis’ apprentice, it was that he had done so formally at all. He tended to leave such matters up to the men themselves as he had done with Athos and the Whelp.

“Ah yes,” Aramis answered, unsure how to take Porthos’ question. 

“Congratulations,” Athos said, casting a side glance at Porthos. “I can think of none finer to take the boy under his wing.”

“Athos is right,” Porthos added quickly. “Didn’t mean it to seem I didn’t think so. Just surprised at Treville. He doesn’t usually get all official like that.”

“No, he doesn’t,” Aramis agreed. “I am not sure if that was more for my sake or Francois’. The boy could stand a bit of bolstering about his abilities as a medic. He worries he will fail those under his care.”

“The sign of a true medic,” Athos remarked.

“Indeed. I hope I can infringe upon you all to assist with his training. He has been sacrificing his other training to spend all of his time in the infirmary. I fear it has left his martial skills somewhat lacking. I know some of the men have been working with him, but…”

“Of course we will help,” d’Artagnan replied. He could well remember his own stint as Athos’ apprentice. These men had not once balked at helping Athos teach him, willingly imparting all the knowledge and skills they could to him. He would do no less for Aramis’ apprentice now. No matter how insecure it left him feeling for his continued place in the man’s life.

“I only hope I can do right by the boy,” Aramis said, voicing his worry. “I have not exactly been the epitome of what a Musketeer should be of late.”

“That is no fault of your own, brother,” Athos insisted.

“Had I not been…”

“No,” Porthos said stopping Aramis mid-sentence. “The fault is ours, not yours.”

“I should never have insisted you not leave the garrison,” Athos added. “It only made things worse for you when you did venture out.”

“You only did what you felt was best, for me and everyone else,” Aramis defended. He reached across the table and took Athos’ hand, holding it tightly. “I even agreed with it. It was the most prudent course of action. That it did not have the effect we anticipated is not your fault, my love.”

“Aramis,” Athos sighed, holding his hand back tightly. He had seen the other two react at their lover’s endearment from the corner of his eye but he did not call attention to it. He was not going to restrict how he and Aramis behaved, he was not going to censure either one of them. He loved his brothers dearly but he was not going to sacrifice rebuilding his relationship with Aramis for another’s comfort. He had nearly walked away from him for the sake of another before. He was not willing to do so again.

Aramis excused himself early that night, taking his Bible and retiring to his room. He wanted to spend some time in quiet contemplation before seeking guidance for the coming trials. They could not afford another misstep, not now. Besides which, he thought his brothers might benefit from a little time without him. Time not spent actively searching for kidnappers, that was.

“You could go after him,” Porthos said to Athos. They had settled in the sitting room as usual and watched as Aramis made his way up the stairs to his room. “Doubt he’d turn away your company.”

“He would,” Athos said surely. “For whatever reason, he wishes to be alone tonight.”

“Do not let him pull away from you,” d’Artagnan cautioned, aware of exactly how hypocritical such words were coming from him. He saw both men’s eyes widen and shrugged. “I know how that must sound coming from me but nevertheless the advice is sound.”

“Whelp’s right,” Porthos agreed. “You got a foot in the door. Use it. We don’t… we don’t mind that…”

“You do,” Athos said softly.

“No,” Porthos argued. “We don’t. We may wish we had the same thing, but we don’t mind that you do. We told you before, we don’t begrudge that he still trusts you, brother.”

“Then how exactly do you suggest I use this advantage of mine?”

“Same way you did the last time,” Porthos replied. “Court him. You won his heart back then when he didn’t even know if he could love another man like that. You can do it again.”

“I am not going to argue with you on this,” Athos sighed. “I want it too much to even try. I love him. With all my heart and soul, I love him. I tried to walk away from him once for your sake. I cannot do that again, Porthos. I will not. I love you, brother, but I will not leave his side.”

“Good,” d’Artagnan said. “We would have it no other way. You think the words you spoke are somehow news to us. They are not. Not truly. We knew this, both of us. We knew that Aramis was… is… everything to you. And while, as you said, you love us dearly, the simple truth is you love him more.”

“I… I would not say more…”

“Then you are deceiving yourself and us as well,” d’Artagnan said flatly. “I may be the youngest of us but I am not stupid. I have always known the truth of things. I knew it when we declared ourselves to each other. I knew it when I accepted your ring. I know it now. It has not changed, Athos. Soul mate or not, Aramis rules you. He rules us all.”

Athos turned to fully face d’Artagnan on the sofa. He pulled him into his arms before he could protest and held him tightly. “I do love you, d’Artagnan. So very much.”

“I know,” d’Artagnan replied, holding Athos back just as hard. “I love you as well. I always will. But that fact changes nothing.”

“I think the three of us need to head on upstairs,” Porthos said after a moment. He took in the desperate way the other two were holding onto each other and nodded to himself. Aramis wasn’t the only one that they needed to rebuild their bonds with. The bonds between all of them had been damaged to one degree or another and they all needed care.

&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M

The next day proved more of the same and by the time the three returned to the garrison they were noticeably discouraged. Knowing something had to give if he ever wanted this situation resolved, Treville shook his head and called the three up to his office. “Aramis, Francois, you two as well,” he called before heading back inside.

“I take it you three didn’t have any better success today,” Treville said, frowning sourly at the men assembled before him. He knew it likely wasn’t their fault, that they wanted to catch these scoundrels, but luck had not been on their side and they were running out of time. He was not a fool and neither were they. They could not hope to continue this investigation forever without those they did not wish to getting wind of it. They needed to get to the bottom of this.

“No,” Athos said shortly. He knew all too well what his Captain was thinking. He’d had the same misgivings when he’d allowed Porthos and d’Artagnan to begin their investigation. He had never intended it to drag on for so long. This was putting everyone in the Court in danger from more than just these kidnappers.

“Very well,” Treville said. “Let’s see if Aramis and Francois can be of any help. If nothing else, two more sets of eyes will be useful.”

“Sir,” Athos paused, his eyes flitting to Francois then back to Treville. “I am not sure this is the time to be bringing a recruit along.”

“He is Aramis’ responsibility,” Treville said sharply. “And since I do not hear him speaking up…” At that, Treville turned his full attention to Aramis making it clear that if the man had any misgivings he expected him to voice them.

“Francois will be fine,” Aramis said confidently, his eyes locking with those of his Captain. He appreciated what the man was doing, the confidence he was placing in him. He would be well within his rights to make the decision himself or even leave it to Athos as the senior Musketeer but he was placing his trust in him. Aramis vowed to himself that trust would not be misplaced. “He will follow my lead with neither question nor hesitation. His presence is no reason for concern.”

Porthos glanced toward Athos out of the corner of his eye but held his tongue. He didn’t like this. Not at all. While he knew they needed Aramis with them, he didn’t particularly want some wet behind the ears recruit along as well. This wasn’t a training mission. People were going missing, possibly dying. They needed to find these men, not waste time teaching the lad the difference between his ass and a hole in the ground. 

He didn’t understand why the Captain was leaving the decision up to Aramis rather than Athos anyway. He wasn’t going to contradict Aramis in front of both Treville and the boy, though. Aramis was entirely too besotted with the freckle-faced lad as it was. Looking at Aramis, he saw his eyes narrow and knew he had not missed his furtive glance in Athos’ direction. He gave an internal wince at that, aware of how displeased his brother looked. Well, he had planned to say something once they were home anyway. At least now he knew it was likely to be ill received. 

They headed home after bidding Francois good night, Aramis instructing him to meet him there the following morning. He didn’t speak on the walk home, his mind preoccupied with thoughts of the coming day. He tried not to think about Athos’ and Porthos’ reactions to the idea of Francois accompanying them. D’Artagnan, at least, had not seemed to mind. Of course, he had not seemed to have much of a reaction one way or the other. That in itself was somewhat troubling. He was not blind, nor was he particularly obtuse, especially where their youngest was concerned. D’Artagnan was pulling away from them, or he had been. For all that he had stopped pulling away, he had not moved all that closer either.

Once home, when Aramis headed for the kitchen the other three followed, sitting at the kitchen table rather than going into the sitting room. They watched him work in silence, Athos putting a hand on d’Artagnan’s arm when he would have moved to help him. He understood how hard it was for him to simply sit and watch Aramis do this but there was little to be done for it at the moment.

For his part, Aramis began noisily jerking pots out of the cupboard and banging them on the counter. He could feel is ire rising as his brothers watched him, the feel of their eyes only making it worse. He was not sure why he was so angry, why the look that had passed between the men had upset him so, but it clearly had. 

Porthos sat for a moment gathering his courage. He caught Athos’ eye and nodded then took a long, steadying breath. “Look, ‘Mis, we appreciate you wanna spare the boy’s feelings…” Porthos began only for Aramis to round on him, dark eyes flashing.

“Shut your mouth,” Aramis snapped angrily. “As the Captain just said. He is _my_ responsibility. I would no more put him in danger to spare his feelings than I would you, you bloody oaf.”

“He does not mean it as an insult,” d’Artagnan said quietly, trying to soften Aramis’ anger, only to have the man round on him.

“Bullshit,” Aramis spat. “That is exactly the way he means it. He thinks me incapable of making such a decision. Thinks my judgement impaired. Do you think likewise? Am I too damaged to think for myself, _Master_?”

“Aramis!” Athos shouted, surging to his feet. He could see the rage boiling in his brother’s eyes and was taken aback. This creature standing before him, this was not his brother. Athos felt icy fingers wrap around his heart at the memory of another time those beautiful eyes had glared so menacingly at them. Rounding the table, he took hold of his lover by the arms and shook him hard. He saw Aramis’ eyes fix on him for a brief moment, then he was blinking and shaking his head.

Athos released him and took a step back though he kept his hands close in case Aramis stumbled. He could see the confusion on his face and it tore at him. He had thought them safe here. They were supposed to be safe here. Michel said they were safe here, damn it! It should not have been able to affect Aramis like this. Unless, of course, it had not been the thing in the shed after all. Perhaps… perhaps Aramis had simply been… angry.

“Athos?” Aramis whispered, confused and scared at his loss of control. 

“Are you alright?” Athos asked.

“Hah. No,” Aramis laughed, his voice brittle. He turned to Porthos and saw the man eying him warily. “I’m sorry. I did not mean…”

“It’s okay,” Porthos said, swallowing thickly. “I didn’t mean to question you. You know…”

“I know,” Aramis said quickly, not wanting to listen to Porthos offer apologies for simply speaking his concerns aloud. He turned his gaze to d’Artagnan then and wasn’t surprised to find the young man gripping the edge of the table with both hands, his head hanging down so that his hair obscured any view of his face.

“d’Artagnan, look at me, please,” Aramis said softly, aware of how precariously close the other man was to bolting on them.

Unable to deny a direct request from Aramis, d’Artagnan lifted his head. His eyes were huge in his too pale face. “I… I have to go,” he stammered as he pushed back from the table and rose shakily. 

“Stop!” Aramis called before he had made it more than a step toward the door. Brushing past Athos, he strode around the table and over to the young man who stood as if frozen in place. He stopped directly in front of him and carefully pulled him forward until d’Artagnan’s head rested on his shoulder. “You are not leaving. Do you hear me? You are my brother and you are not leaving me.”

“I… I have… have to go,” d’Artagnan argued weakly, his face pressed into the side of Aramis’ neck.

“You are not leaving me,” Aramis said again. He looked up at Athos then over at Porthos. “Could one of you please finish making dinner?”

“Of course,” Athos said. 

“You need any help with him?” Porthos asked as he rose to join Athos.

“No, I’ve got him,” Aramis replied as he began leading an unresisting d’Artagnan into the sitting room. He sat them somewhat awkwardly on the sofa as he refused to relinquish his hold on the younger man, still worried he might try to flee. He still felt horribly off-kilter but he wasn’t going to risk letting go of the younger man. He knew better.

Aramis could feel d’Artagnan giving in and starting to relax against him. As he held him, his eyes alit on the fireplace mantle where his ring and collar rested. Or at least where his ring and collar should have rested. He could see his ring still lay there but it sat alone now, his collar nowhere in sight. The knowledge that his collar was gone, that it had been removed, tore through him like a shot and caused his arms to suddenly go slack.

D’Artagnan felt Aramis’ arms loosen around him and looked up. He saw the look of dismay on his face and followed his line of sight to the mantle over the fireplace. _Oh_ , he thought. He hadn’t realized that Aramis was still unaware he had taken the collar away. Unable to bear the sight of relief in his brother’s eyes right then, d’Artagnan used Aramis’ surprise to slip from his arms. He moved across the floor and up the stairs as silently as he could, disappearing into the master bedroom before Aramis even realized he had left him.

Aramis felt as though his heart had suddenly stopped then it was pounding madly in his chest as he sucked in a breath. He realized that d’Artagnan had slipped away from him in his shock and cursed himself. Knowing their brothers would not have allowed him to leave the house, he headed for the stairs. If the Whelp thought he was giving up his life without a fight he was sadly mistaken.

The door to the master bedroom was standing ajar and he pushed it open. He saw d’Artagnan sitting on the bed, a small ornate wooden box in his hands. “Is that where you put it?” he asked as he came over and sat down beside him.

“Yes,” d’Artagnan replied, his eyes fixed on the box. It contained the most precious material objects he owned, short of Athos’ ring – his father’s pocket watch and Aramis’ collar. “I was going to burn it, but I couldn’t bring myself to. Thought I’d hold onto it until we went back to the maison. I could bury it out near the barn then.”

“And if I want it back?” Aramis asked, doing his best to show none of the overpowering fear he felt.

“You don’t,” d’Artagnan said flatly.

“Should not that be my decision? Or do you truly think me too damaged to decide my own fate?”

“Of course not. But we both know that some things, once broken, cannot be mended.”

“Maybe not as they were,” Aramis conceded. “But that does not mean that they are irreparably destroyed. Or are they? Has my refusal of you… has it broken… that is… do you not…”

“Don’t,” d’Artagnan ground out. “How can you… As if this is in some way your doing. No. No, the fault here is mine and mine alone.”

“But it isn’t,” Aramis said fervently. “You were not in control of yourself. You were being influenced. It was not your fault.”

“Was it not? More importantly, does it matter? You still blame us. And you’re right to. We may have been influenced but we knew what we were doing was wrong. It’s why we hid it from Athos.”

“Perhaps,” Aramis conceded. “But… perhaps not. Evil is insidious. It corrupts all that it touches. You say you knew it was wrong which is why you hid what you were doing. I find myself wondering if it would have allowed you to do anything else.”

“That doesn’t make any sense.”

“It does to me.”

“You’re making excuses for us,” d’Artagnan argued.

“No, I’m not. I’m finally listening to my heart rather than my fear. Make no mistake, I am still uneasy. It will take time to rebuild the trust between us all. But it will be rebuilt. I refuse to allow some bits of blood on a few blades of grass to destroy everything we have made together.”

“I will always be your brother, Aramis,” d’Artagnan said helplessly. “I… I don’t know that I can offer more than that. Not again. I’m sorry.”

“Shh. It’s… it’s alright. I un-understand,” Aramis swallowed. Rising on shaky legs, he began backing toward the stairs. He had never imagined it would come to this, that his brothers would not wait for him. He had not meant to ruin everything. 

In that moment, he could feel the absence of the collar more keenly than ever. When he had torn it from his neck, he had felt as though it was choking him, the leather searing into him. Now… now he felt as though he was choking from the loss of it. Tears stung his eyes, blurring his vision, as he continued to walk backward. He wanted to take it back. He wanted to take it all back so badly but he knew he could not. It was too late. 

D’Artagnan saw the stricken look on Aramis’ face and wanted to kick himself. He quickly replayed the words he had said and realized how his brother had taken them. He had not meant that he did not want what they had back. He would give anything to have Aramis back again. He only meant that he did not know _how_. 

Seeing Aramis backing toward the staircase as if unaware, d’Artagnan dashed forward. He grabbed him by the arm and jerked him forward, pulling him against his chest before falling to his knees with him cradled in his arms. 

“No,” he said firmly as he began to rock him back and forth at the top of the landing. It was his turn now to refuse to allow the other to run. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I did not mean it. Not like that. I just… I don’t know how to do this. I’m so sorry.”

“Please don’t leave me, Master” Aramis whispered.

“I won’t,” d’Artagnan vowed, though at the moment he was not at all sure he could keep such a promise.

&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M

Francois was waiting rather nervously for Aramis and his brothers to arrive. He had gotten there early not wanting to be late and cast a bad light on his mentor. He had not missed the look that had passed between Aramis’ brothers when the Captain had assigned him to this investigation with them. The lower profile he kept, the better for now. 

“Punctual as ever, I see,” Aramis said as he came over to join him. Francois had been so lost in his thoughts that he had not even noticed the quartet’s arrival. “Now now. No need to worry so. You are up to this. I would not have agreed for you to come if you were not.”

“I just don’t want to make you look bad,” Francois admitted.

“Then you shall not.”

Francois couldn’t help but grin, Aramis’ encouragement bolstering him as it always did. He tried to school his features when the other three approached but Aramis shook his head.

“Your boy’s a mite antsy around us,” Porthos observed, quite aware that he was the main reason the boy was acting so. 

“He is not my boy and it is his first mission with us,” Aramis shrugged.

“He is your apprentice,” Athos said. “That makes him your boy even if Porthos could have worded it with a touch more tact.”

“Sorry,” Porthos replied, scratching the back of his neck at the mild rebuke. 

“No worries,” Aramis said, tipping his head in thanks at the apology. 

Watching the byplay between the men, Francois could tell that something had changed. It was subtle, but Aramis seemed more at ease, more sure of himself where these men were concerned. It eased something within him in turn and he found himself looking forward to heading out into the city.

They quickly fell into step as they headed for the gate. “Stay close to Aramis and follow his lead and you will do fine,” d’Artagnan advised as they crossed the compound. He remembered what it was like to be new, to be trying to prove himself to these men. Athos had often been a harsh taskmaster but he had always been fair. D’Artagnan knew he had only come as far as he had because of the man’s determination to make something of him. Francois was not nearly so pig-headed and Aramis’ gentler hand was much better suited to him. Still, if there was anything he could do to help the lad, and Aramis, he would do so and gladly. His brothers had done their best for him, after all.

&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M

La Oscuridad felt the Seminarian’s presence draw near. It could feel him, him and his brothers, as they moved deeper into the garrison. It had felt his anger the night before, felt it and fed it, though it had not been able to do much. With the roil of emotions within him, it was enough. Now, it stretched out its senses, searching for the cacophony of pain it had come to expect from the poor, damaged Musketeer.

Something was wrong. Rattling the shelves of its makeshift prison, it cast out its senses once more. It probed at the Seminarian, pushing deeper, looking for the pain and anger it knew should be there. Instead of the roil it expected, it found… acceptance. 

Patience.

_Faith_.

Snarling, it drew back, its own rage spiraling dangerously. How dare this feeble human find peace? How dare he rebuild his ruined faith? It would not allow this to happen. It had come so close. He was all but shattered! How could he make peace with those that had harmed him so grievously? And in the basest of ways imaginable!

Swirling round and round the ramshackle room, its energy grew as its rage did. Energy crackled along the walls, splitting the shelves in two and sending their contents crashing to the floor. The smell of ozone grew heavy and thick in the air as its power grew with every passing second. The very walls themselves began to tremble, the door rattling on its hinges, the rusty iron chains holding it shut clanking and groaning as they stretched ominously.

Suddenly, the air within the shed seemed to draw in on itself, as if a great lung had sucked inward, breathing it into itself and holding it there. Scant moments later, that great lung heaved outward, expelling the air it had breathed in with all the pent up force La Oscuridad could muster.


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to Snow_Glory for all her help with this!

The five of them had just reached the outer gate when they felt a stillness settle over the garrison. It was enough to make them pause and regard one another quizzically. A moment later, a great roaring had them covering their ears as the shed at the far end of the compound erupted in an explosion of wood and metal and glass.

They dove for cover instinctively, Aramis grabbing Francois and pulling the boy with him as he threw them both to the ground. He could hear men shouting over the ringing in his hears but he stayed where he was for a moment, making sure the initial danger had passed before pushing to his feet and pulling his young protégé up with him.

Aramis took one look at the destruction littering the courtyard from where they had just come and took off at a run. He heard Porthos curse and thunder after him. After that, he tuned them out, letting his senses concentrate on the task at hand, seeking out those that might be injured or trapped within the debris. 

From what he could tell, something had exploded quite violently, though he could not ascertain what as of yet. Whatever it was, it was near the back of the garrison as the amount of scattered debris grew the farther in he ventured. He could make out pieces of wood, bits of what looked like shelves and part of a table, but it was difficult to be sure as he picked his way through. When his boot crunched down on something that sounded like glass, he froze. He lifted his foot gingerly and peered at the ground beneath it. What he saw made the blood freeze in his veins and for a moment he could not draw in air.

There, ground into the dirt beneath his boot, was the smashed remains of a glass vial, its charred surface easily discernible if one knew what one was looking at. It was one of the same vials that had held the bloody grass clippings in the shed. One of the ones that had turned the Holy Water within it black. His heart began to thunder in his chest, the blood rushing through his ears, as he realized at last what had caused the explosion. 

Casting about in a near panic, his eyes lit on Treville. “Get everyone back!” he shouted. “Get them back!”

“What is it?” Treville asked as he pushed his was through the men.

“It’s the shed,” Aramis gasped when Treville had drawn close enough that he would not have to shout. “You need to keep the men away. Evacuate the garrison…”

“I can’t evacuate the garrison,” Treville told him shortly. “And I wouldn’t if I could. We’re not running from this thing, I don’t give a damn what it is. Claude, come here.”

“Yes, Sir?” Claude replied coming to Treville’s side at once. He had a trickle of blood running down the side of his face but appeared otherwise uninjured.

“Go to Saint Severin and get Father Michel. Tell him we’ve had an accident at the garrison and accompany him here at once. He’ll understand.”

“Yes, Sir,” Claude said before turning and sprinting away eager to get the priest and return to help see to his injured comrades.

With Michel being sent for, Aramis pushed all thoughts of the shed aside and began tending to the injured, as did Francois. Most of the men had gotten off lightly, the leather of their uniforms protecting them from the worst of the flying debris. Serge, however, was another story. The aged Musketeer who served as their resident cook had not only been closest to the blast but had been in little more than breeches and an apron. 

The force of the explosion had thrown him back several feet, slamming him bodily into the side of the adjacent building, leaving him dazed and half-conscious on the ground with shards of wood impaling the front of him from head to toe. The impact alone should have killed him, but he was nothing if not hardy. 

Francois had been the one to find him and had thought at first the man was surely dead. When he let out a moan and tried to move, he had placed his hand on an uninjured area of his shoulder and stilled him before calling loudly for Aramis, his voice high and shrill as he fought to stay calm. He had never seen so many wounds on a single person before, had not thought a single man capable of being so grievously wounded and yet live. Something must have shown on his face for suddenly it was Serge comforting him rather than the other way around.

“It’s alright, boy,” Serge said, his voice labored as he breathed through the pain. “Don’t be scared. This old body’s been hurt worse than this. I’ll not be dying on you just yet.”

“Yes, Sir,” Francois said, swallowing and nodding gratefully at the much older man. He reached down and took Serge’s hand, holding it as he waited for Aramis to get there. He knew he should start triaging the man but he was so badly hurt he wasn’t sure what to do first and didn’t want to make anything worse. 

“Yer doin’ fine,” Serge told him. “Just fine. Aramis picked a good one, he did.”

By the time some semblance of order had been restored, Aramis was exhausted. When Francois had cried out he had dropped everything and come at a run, the panic in the young man’s voice scaring him. What he saw when he reached his side, however, scared him even more. Serge had bits of wood and metal impaling him all over. His blood was spilling out around the man at an alarming rate and Aramis knew if they didn’t manage to stem it soon his heart would give out. 

“Athos! Porthos!” Aramis yelled as he knelt down next to the fallen man. “You’re going to be alright, Serge. Just hang on.”

“Not goin’ anywhere, lad,” Serge promised. He could read the fear in Aramis’ eyes and reached toward him weakly. He wasn’t afraid of dying. But he hated the thought of what his death might do the man. Aramis had been through so much. He wasn’t sure he could handle yet another blow.

When Athos and Porthos arrived they carefully lifted Serge and carried him as fast as they could to the infirmary. Once there, the medic in Aramis took over and he quickly began calling out orders to Francois, telling him to start working on the man’s extremities while he concentrated on the more serious wounds. It took them over two hours as they painstakingly removed piece after piece of wood and metal from the man. By the time they were done, Serge was swathed in bandages with little more than his eyes and mouth peeking out.

“At least it missed his face,” Francois said as they plopped down heavily just outside the infirmary after seeing to the remainder of the injured.

“He threw his arms up,” Aramis said absently. “It’s why there were so many splinters and shards in them. He may be old, but he still has a Musketeer’s reflexes when he needs them.”

Francois nodded wearily. He didn’t understand how he could train all day and still be on his feet, yet these last two hours had taxed him almost beyond endurance. A sideways glance at his mentor showed him to be equally spent and he had to wonder if it was the intensity of it all that was causing it.

“Are you alright?” Francois asked after a moment then shook his head at the stupidity of the question. Of course the man wasn’t alright. That damnable shed had exploded and nearly killed a man he obviously cared a great deal for.

“I’m fine, my friend,” Aramis replied tiredly. “Or as fine as one can be at a time like this.” He looked at Francois then, really looked at him, and cringed.

“How are you holding up?” He asked.

“I am... I have been better,” he admitted.

“As have we all,” Aramis agreed. “You did remarkably well today. You should be proud of yourself.”

“I don’t know that I can feel pride for pulling bits of wood out of my fellow Musketeers.”

“You should. You saved lives today. Serge’s at the very least. Believe me when I say the men, all of the men, are grateful for your care.”

Francois blushed and looked away. He really didn’t think he had done all that much. None of the men other than Serge had been injured very badly. They could have easily seen to their own wounds. He was glad he had acquitted himself well, though. He didn’t want to do anything to make Aramis look bad or regret taking him on.

“You are exhausted,” Aramis said after a moment. “It is the adrenaline. It floods your system during times such as these. It can be quite useful, helping you to keep going when you otherwise would not be able to. When it fades, however, it leaves your body feeling spent, as if you had endured much more than you truly had.

“And you did save lives today whether you believe so or not. Musketeers are terrible at treating their own injuries. They are apt to leave them until they start to fester, thinking wrapping a bandage around whatever the injury sufficient.”

“That explains a lot,” Francois said, shaking his head.

“Couple of them gave you a hard time, I take it?” Aramis chuckled.

“The Captain had to order them to sit still and let me treat them. He told one of them if he didn’t stop kicking up a fuss he’d have you come and take over.”

“Which one was that?”

“Martin,” Francois replied.

Aramis huffed out a laugh, “I should have known.” Martin had never liked being treated, by him or anyone else. Aramis had been forced to get quite cross with him before to make him behave. The last thing he would have wanted was the Captain calling him over, knowing it would have only prolonged what he considered only a step above torture.

They were just starting to get their strength back when Athos and Porthos joined them. “How is he?” Athos asked. 

“Resting,” Aramis replied, scrubbing a hand over his face. “He lost a good bit of blood but Serge is strong. He’s going to be alright.”

“That’s good to hear,” Porthos said, relieved. He was about to say more when Treville and Father Michel walked up.

“How are you men holding up?” Treville asked.

“We’re fine, Sir,” Aramis replied before anyone else could answer.

“You’re exhausted, son,” Treville countered. “Athos, see Aramis and Francois home. Porthos, d’Artagnan, I’m afraid I need you men here tonight.”

“The shed...” Aramis began.

“I have done a cursory inspection,” Michel said. “I will be looking at it more closely once the furor dies down a touch. There is nothing more you can do here. Not now. Go home and rest. If I discover anything I will let you know at once.”

“Alright,” Aramis nodded. He didn’t like it, but he was right. There wasn’t much they could do here and it was probably better that Michel examine what was left of the shed rather than him.

The walk home was a quiet one. They saw Francois home first, turning him over to the watchful care of his father and fiancé. The remainder of the walk back to their home was all but silent. Athos could tell that what happened at the garrison was weighing on Aramis. They were lucky no one had been killed or even badly hurt, save for Serge. Athos shuddered at the memory of ordering Aramis to dismantle the shed singlehandedly. It terrified him to think of what all might have happened to his lover had he actually gone inside that thing.

Back at home, Athos sat Aramis down at the kitchen table and grabbed a bottle of wine. Sitting down, he handed Aramis a mug then took a long drink of his own. The wine hit his belly but it didn’t carry the familiar warmth it normally did. Instead, it made his stomach roil nauseatingly. 

“I realize the inanity of this question, but are you alright?” He asked Aramis, watching him carefully from across the table. 

“Not really,” Aramis replied shakily. “Serge...”

“Is going to be fine,” Athos said firmly. “You said so yourself.”

“I have no doubt he will recover, Athos. It is the fact that he must recover in the first place. We are lucky no one was maimed or killed. What if one of the men had taken a piece of wood to the eye? Or the throat? They would have bled out before I could have even reached them.”

“But they didn’t,” Athos said. “Everyone’s okay or going to be. This wasn’t your fault.”

“How could it be anyone else’s?” The guilt had been growing in Aramis with every wound he had bandaged. He had managed to push it to the back of his mind, concentrating on caring for the injured. Once everyone had been seen to, however, he could no longer ignore it. He had done this. He had carried that abomination into the garrison and had allowed it to fester and rot until… until this.

“If you must blame someone, then blame me,” Athos said. “You told me something was alive in there, was growing, and I did nothing.”

“That’s not true,” Aramis said, aghast. “Michel was working on what to do, how to... to contain it if not destroy it outright.”

“That’s right,” Athos said, relieved to have found an argument Aramis could not really counter yet guilty all the same. Aramis had warned him, had told them something was alive in that shed and he had done nothing. “Michel was working on it. I did not ignore the threat and neither did you. We simply... ran out of time.”

“This isn’t your fault,” Athos said again when Aramis remained stubbornly silent.

“It feels like my fault,” Aramis said at last.

“That is because you just spent the last few hours tending to your wounded brothers and you are exhausted. Perhaps it would be best if you went upstairs to bed.”

“I am not sure I want to,” Aramis admitted. “The thought of trying to sleep…”

“What if I came up with you?” Athos offered carefully.

“You… you would not mind?”

In answer, Athos stood and held out his hand. When Aramis took it, the grip was stronger than Athos had expected and it eased a bit of the fear inside of him. Still holding his hand, he slowly led him through the house and up the stairs.

In what had become Aramis’ room, Athos paused just inside the doorway. He started to close the door then stopped. While he had come with him readily enough, he did not think Aramis would appreciate being confined in such a small room with him. Instead, pulled the chair in the corner up beside the bed giving him someplace to sit. 

Athos kept his back respectfully turned while Aramis undressed. He was acutely aware of their proximity as well as the fact that they were alone in the house. He cursed himself for not insisting at least one of the others come back with them. Still, Aramis did not seem overly distressed by it so he kept silent, not wanting to draw his attention unnecessarily.

Once Aramis was safely beneath the covers, he offered to move over so Athos could sit on the bed beside him, but Athos shook his head and sat in the chair instead. Aramis let it go. He felt horribly off balance again, like he had after their attack. He understood that it was merely the stress of the day catching up to him, that and the overwhelming guilt he felt at being the cause of such pain and suffering.

“Athos…” Aramis trailed off, unsure what to say that would not make him sound like a sniveling child.

“Aramis? What is it?” Athos asked. 

Aramis didn’t reply, looking away instead as he blushed hotly.

“Tell me what is wrong,” Athos implored.

“Ah, well… yes. It’s nothing really. I…”

“Aramis,” Athos said softly as he slowly stood then sat down on the side of the bed and took his lover’s hand once more. “I love you. Now tell me what I can do to help you.”

“Would you… that is… would you mind… staying with me?” Aramis asked hesitantly.

“I never mind staying near you,” Athos answered. “Is the floor here beside the bed alright?”

“The floor?” Aramis repeated, appalled. He recalled that first night and how Athos had slept on the floor outside his door simply to be close to him. Oh what had he ever done to merit such care from this man? “You are not sleeping on the floor, my Athos. I would have you… the bed… it is big enough, is it not?”

Athos paused for long seconds as he took in what Aramis was asking. “It is,” he finally managed, rising to his feet. “But only if you are sure. I cannot guarantee I will not draw close to you in the night. I…”

“I trust you,” Aramis said softly, surprised by how much he meant those words. He did trust Athos, more than he trusted the others, more than he even trusted himself. He knew Athos would not let him err. Those strong arms had never once let him down before the Darkness tried to poison him. It was long past time he remembered that.

Athos stood transfixed, as if frozen in place. Hearing those three words from Aramis was akin to a dream come true for him. He had tried to tell himself they would rebuild, that he would not lose all that he had found with this man. But there were some nights when the sheer enormity of what they had done, what they had laid waste to, threatened to swamp him. To hear Aramis say that now, that he trusted him, made his knees go weak and he struggled not to fall to the floor at his bedside.

“Athos?” Aramis called worriedly. The emotions that flashed across Athos’ face made his heart ache. To see such relief there, as he if had despaired of them ever finding their way to each other again was like a physical pain and Aramis found himself reaching toward the man almost desperately.

Seeing Aramis reach toward him, Athos moved. He stepped closer to the bed and took his brother’s outstretched hand. “I am here. I am here, Aramis,” he said as he pulled that hand to his lips and kissed it reverently. 

“Please. Lie with me,” Aramis beseeched.

“Yes, alright. Just… let me...” Athos hesitated, unsure what to do. He did not want to presume and begin taking off his clothes. “Would you, ah, prefer if I stayed as I am?”

Aramis was confused for a second then he smiled shyly. “No,” he shook his head. “I would have you comfortable and, well, I trust you.”

Athos drew in a breath and nodded quickly. Releasing Aramis’ hand, he stepped back and quickly shed his breeches. He loosened his shirt but did not remove it. For all that Aramis said he trusted him, Athos did not want to take advantage of that. And he knew his own body would behave more if there was at least some barrier besides their thin smalls between them. 

“You don’t have to…”

“I want to,” Athos said, referring to his shirt. “As you have said you trust me, know that I cherish you beyond measure. You are… are everything to me, Aramis. Please allow me to show you the care that my love for you merits.”

“Of course,” Aramis whispered, awed once more by all that Athos felt for him. He could see it, no longer hidden in his eyes but finally given free rein for the first time since all of this happened. To see such a depth of love, it humbled him, just as Athos’ love always seemed to do.

Dressed in his shirt and smalls, Athos slid into the bed behind Aramis, his back to the wall. He had no more than laid down before Aramis drew the covers over both of them and carefully pressed back against him. When Athos slid his arm around him, pulling him in close, he could not hold in a moan. 

“Aramis?”

“Oh, I have missed you, my Athos,” Aramis whispered, his voice sounding pained. He had not realized how much he was closing himself off in order to keep them at bay. To feel Athos like this now, holding him so securely, was like a balm to all those places that still ached and stung inside of him.

“I am here, my love,” Athos whispered, his lips all but brushing the shell of Aramis’ ear. “I am here, as close as you need me to be, as you wish me to be. You have but to say.”

“I do not wish to make this harder on you.”

“Aramis,” Athos chided gently. “I am yours. Body, heart and soul, I am yours. I am your humble servant, your willing slave and I have no desire to be anything else. 

“Do you remember, before, when I told you that you were everything to me, that if I could have only one of my brothers at my side that it would be you? That… that has not changed. I know I got rather wrapped up in d’Artagnan but that does not mean you do not still rule my heart. You always have and you always will.”

Aramis started to turn over then, wanting to see Athos’ face, wanting to… to hold him and kiss him, but Athos’ arm tightened around his waist preventing him. “No, my love,” Athos said softly. “You have had a hellish day and are all but overwrought. I would be the worst type of cad to take advantage of that. Just rest, my Aramis. Just rest and know that I am here and I will not leave your side.”

Slowly, Athos leaned against Aramis, pushing him forward so that he was partially laying on his front. It allowed Athos the freedom to move his other hand up so he could card his fingers through Aramis’ hair. It had the desired effect almost instantly with the tension bleeding out of Aramis’ body. 

Athos kept his fingers gently stroking through his lover’s hair as he nuzzled his face just beneath his ear and softly whispered to him. In no time at all, Aramis’ breathing began to even out as sleep inexorably pulled him under.

&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M

When morning came, Aramis awoke confused. He could feel a heavy weight pressed all along his back. He tried to turn over but the arm around his middle tightened, refusing to let him move. What surprised him most of all, though, was the utter absence of panic. Instead of fear, he felt… peace. It was then that the previous day’s events came back to him and he realized it was Athos’ arm wrapped so snuggly around his waist. 

Knowing that it was Athos and he was safe, he let his mind drift as he lay still and simply enjoyed being in his lover’s embrace once more. He had not wanted to admit it, not to the others or even himself, but he had missed this. Sleeping alone had never been something he enjoyed. It was one of the reasons he had engaged in affair after affair, barely moving out of one before sliding into another. Once he had taken Athos and the others as his lovers, he had made it a point to let his former paramours know he was no longer “on the market”. When he had broken things off, albeit temporarily, with the others it had left him bereft. Not that he would have taken another to his bed even had he wanted to. He would never be so callous to his brothers. But it had left him lonely and that was something he was not accustomed to dealing with. 

“You are thinking quite hard, love,” Athos whispered, his lips ghosting over the shell of his ear.

“Sorry,” Aramis replied with a shiver. The feel of Athos’ hot breath on him had sent a wild frisson of desire coursing through him. 

“My apologies,” Athos said, drawing back. He had no wish to make his brother uncomfortable and cursed himself for all but holding him down in the bed.

“No,” Aramis shook his head, his hand gripping Athos’ arm tightly so that he couldn’t move away.

“Aramis?”

“You have nothing to apologize for,” Aramis said. 

“I did not mean to move so close,” Athos said. “I…”

Throwing caution to the wind and trusting Athos not to let him go too far, Aramis released his arm and turned to face him. He saw Athos’ eyes widen in surprise then he was leaning in and kissing him. He tried to keep the kiss soft and gentle, like the ones Athos had first given him, but when his lover’s lips parted he could not stop himself from slipping his tongue inside and tasting him.

Athos was so startled by the unexpected move on Aramis’ part that he simply lay there. When Aramis pressed their mouths together, his lips parted out of reflex. When Aramis pushed his tongue into his mouth, however, his stupor cleared and he moaned loudly as he tightened his arm around him and pulled him in flush against him.

They stayed like that for long minutes, lying side by side in bed and kissing. Athos could feel himself growing hard between them but he ignored his arousal in exchange for concentrating on the taste of his lover’s mouth. He felt positively drunk on it, as if Aramis’ kiss was the finest of wines and he wanted to drink of it forever. 

Finally, Aramis reluctantly pulled back. Pressed against Athos as he was he did not miss how affected he was and did not wish to be a tease. He knew Athos would understand but that did not mean he had to make things overly hard on his brother, no pun intended. 

Dressing, however, proved to be a challenge for neither man could seem to stop touching the other one long enough for them to dress. Athos tried to rein himself in, tried to pull back, only for Aramis to press against him once more and enflame him anew. Their kisses and touches were mostly chaste, quick pecks on the lips, the brush of a hand down an arm or across the spine. It didn’t really matter, though. Every kiss, every touch, only made the next more urgent. 

Athos groaned aloud when Aramis surged forward and kissed him on the lips then began placing soft, fleeting kisses along his jaw and down his neck. His hands balled into fists as he fought the urge to reach out and grab, to wrap his lover in an embrace he could not escape and lay claim to that wicked, wicked mouth. 

“Aramis, please…” Athos gasped. “You have to stop. I can’t… Please… I can’t…”

“Can’t what, my Athos?” Aramis asked, briefly halting. Athos sounded positively wrecked and it made his own desire grow hotter. As it was, his cock was hard as steel in his breeches and he couldn’t stop himself from pressing it against Athos’ hip, needing him to know that he was equally affected. 

“Can’t lose you again,” Athos said brokenly. “I don’t want to risk… You must stop…”

“You won’t lose me. I promise,” Aramis told him, moved by Athos’ words.

“Aramis…”  
“I don’t want to stop,” Aramis said while he placed feather light kisses all up and down the side of his neck. “I don’t ever want to stop again. I love you so much.”

With a growl, Athos’ control snapped. He grabbed Aramis by the arms, his hands no longer tentative and pulled him in tight. He could feel Aramis’ hardness against his hip and his own swollen cock gave a violent jerk. Looking into his lover’s eyes, he saw surprise but no fear and boldly covered the other man’s mouth with his own, driving his tongue between his parted lips and tasting him deeply.

Aramis was stunned by Athos’ sudden move then he was moaning and opening his mouth to the man, giving himself over to his lover as he had not done in weeks. Desire was singing through him, burning hot and bright as he felt an answering desire in his lover. Athos was kissing him as if he was starving for it and Aramis yielded to that claiming mouth gladly.

At last, Athos forced his mouth away, gently kissing along the corners of Aramis’ mouth when he tried to protest. He leaned his forehead against the other man’s and panted as he tried to calm his raging body. They had to stop. They had to stop now or they would not and Athos knew it was too soon for that. 

“Athos…” Aramis moaned, his hands gripping his lover’s waist tightly as if he might flee if he let go.

“Shh,” Athos soothed. “We must stop or we will not.”

“I don’t want to stop,” Aramis argued, not caring that he was rushing things. All he cared about was being with this man again.

“Neither do I,” Athos assured him. “But we must. We are expected at the garrison and… and we both know it is too soon.”

“I don’t want to lose you again either,” Aramis said as he tried to calm down.

“You won’t. You could not if you tried. It is as I told you. I am wholly devoted to you. Nothing and no one shall ever move me from your side, save you.”

Somehow, they managed to finish dressing and make it to the garrison though it was a near thing. Aramis had meant what he said. He was done with being apart from this man. He loved and trusted Athos above all others. He would not make the mistake of turning from him again. 

When they got to the garrison, they found Francois already there. He was sitting at the table, talking with Treville and Father Michel. Porthos and d’Artagnan had just finished giving the recruits their various assignments for the day and had walked over to join them.

“Bout time you two showed up,” Porthos said as they walked over. “We were starting to think we’d have to send someone after you.”

“Ah, no,” Aramis said. He glanced at Athos and couldn’t stop the shy grin from spreading across his face. He was giddy with everything he was feeling and didn’t care who saw.

“You’re happy,” d’Artagnan remarked, a bit surprised but pleasantly so. 

“I... Yes,” Aramis said. “I realize I shouldn’t be, not with what happened...”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Michel said. “What happened here was unfortunate but everyone will recover. You have every right to be as happy as the next man. Do not let this evil steal your joy, Aramis. Never let it do that.”

Aramis took a deep breath and nodded. “I will not, my friend.”

“Michel, what have you been able to find out so far?” Athos asked. The reminder of the previous day’s events had dampened his own high spirits and he was eager to find out if this thing, whatever it was, still posed a danger to Aramis.

“Not much as of yet,” Michel admitted. “I have blessed the area where the shed stood and Captain Treville has had the men gather up all of the fragments they could find. I blessed the lot of it as well.”

“Where are the fragments now?” Aramis asked growing alarmed.

“Turned to ash,” Treville said decisively. 

Aramis breathed a sigh of relief at hearing that the fragments had been destroyed. The last thing he wanted was one of his brothers getting too close to them and anything that might be lingering on them. Steeling himself, he swallowed and asked the question he had been avoiding since he arrived.

“How is Serge doing?”

“He made it through the night without incident,” Treville said. “Michel and I took it in turns to stay with him. It’ll be slow going, but he’s going to be fine, Aramis.”

“Captain, I know I was to accompany Aramis today,” Francois began tentatively.

“Yes, son?”

“But, well, I would prefer it if I could stay here and look after Serge,” he said. “I know you said he made it through the night but if something were to happen while we are out, by the time you managed to find us...”

“Are you certain, Francois? I know being tied to the garrison isn’t exactly the type of duty you were hoping for. I can get a physician to come by and check on him.”

“In truth, Captain, I doubt I would be able to concentrate on the mission at hand. And I know Aramis would not. Of the two of us, my time is better spent here than his.”

“Very well,” Treville said, proud of the young man for his decision. “You four need to get back after those kidnappers. That situation needs to be resolved, preferably before the Cardinal gets wind of it.”

“Yes, Sir,” Athos said.

“Francois, you know what to give him for pain, right?”

“Of course,” Francois assured him. “And if he seems to be getting worse or begins to run a fever, I will send for a physician at once.”

“Alright, my friend,” Aramis said, clapping the young man on the shoulder. “Thank you for this. I would have worried for him incessantly.”

“I’ll look after him,” Francois promised. 

“I know you will,” Aramis replied.

When they stepped through the front gate of the garrison, they paused trying to decide the best place to begin their investigation once more. “We still have that lead we never had a chance to follow up on,” d’Artagnan reminded them. “We could start there.”

Athos nodded his agreement. “And if we do not find anything, we can return to the place where you caught sight of them.”

Plan made, they headed toward the Court of Miracles and the tavern they had been told of. Athos hoped they could pick up their trail there. He didn’t relish the thought of venturing any further into the vicinity of the Court in search of these men. It would be their territory and they did not even know how many of them they might be facing.

“Do you really believe this Gaspar has something to do with all of this?” Athos asked as they made their way to the tavern. 

“I can think of no other reason for him to have been in such close proximity to the Court,” d’Artagnan offered, a shiver running through him at the thought of the man. “And he is the type. He considers no one of any value save himself.”

“If he is behind this, we will stop him,” Athos promised. “And we will make him pay for all that he has done, both here and in Gascony.”

At the tavern, they split up, each moving to a different corner in the hopes of sniffing out their quarry. Of the four of them, Porthos didn’t bother trying to hide his pauldron. His size and color were both sure to give him away so he saw no point to it. It would only tip them off that they were onto them and, like Athos, he wasn’t sure just who they were dealing with yet.

The tavern keeper wasn’t overly happy about having Musketeers in his establishment, but Athos had paid him well and Porthos was known there. Besides, kidnappers were bad for business. People got scared, didn’t venture out. Those few that did, kept their heads down and kept to themselves. That wasn’t good for business either. Not for a man who dealt in information as much as he did ale.

It was just after noon time when they finally got lucky. D’Artagnan recognized Gaspar the moment he walked into the tavern. Not wanting him to do likewise, he turned away and took a long drink of the ale he had been nursing for the last two hours. Athos saw the move and he eyed the men that had entered carefully. 

There were three of them, Athos saw. A manageable number even if they were skilled. The problem would come in if there were more of them elsewhere that they had not seen. Considering the sheer number of abductions, Athos thought there surely must be. If not here, then further down the chain. These people were not being ransomed. They were not being killed. So that begged the question, what was being done with them?

Porthos left first, not wanting his presence to make them nervous. He had caught d’Artagnan’s reaction, too, and was mindful not to even glance in the direction of the three men. Outside, he went around to the side of the tavern and waited, concealing himself in the shadows. 

Aramis came out next, taking the other side of the tavern, leaving Athos and d’Artagnan inside with the men. Aramis hadn’t wanted to leave the tavern. It left d’Artagnan open as he worked to conceal his identity, but Athos had signaled him to and he had reluctantly done so. Now, he stood waiting in the shadows for the men or his brothers to come out. 

Inside, Athos kept a careful eye on Gaspar. From the looks of things, he was the one in charge, at least between the three of them. Athos found that thought distressing. From what d’Artagnan had told them, this man enjoyed inflicting pain and cruelty on others. If he was in the one running things, that did not bode well for their victims at all. There were, after all, a great many ways of disposing of a body in Paris leaving none the wiser. This didn’t feel like that, though.

For his part, d’Artagnan kept his attention firmly fixed on Athos. He kept the three men in his periphery but he did not dare let Gaspar get a look at his face. He was not sure if he had recognized him when they chased him through the alleyways and did not want to take the chance. That left him with a bit of a problem. He could not leave the tavern without walking past the men and even ordering another drink would draw more attention than he wanted. 

As he sipped at his ale, d’Artagnan felt his skin start to crawl and knew Gaspar was looking at him. He had always been able to tell when this particular one of Lucinda’s brothers was watching him. The man’s small, dark eyes were set just a touch too close together, giving his face a pinched look even as a boy. It had made him look prone to mischief then, now it gave him a menacing air that guaranteed others cut a wide path around him.

He was just starting to wonder how he was going to get past the man when a shot rang out from the street outside the tavern. Even sparsely occupied, there were a few brief moments of chaos as everyone rushed for the door. D’Artagnan saw Athos pushing through the men and tried to follow him when a steely hand clamped down on his arm.

“Going somewhere, Charlie?” Gaspar said, grinning widely. He saw his hand move toward his belt and tightened his grip. “Wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

D’Artagnan started to jerk away when he felt the press of a musket barrel against his side. “What do you want?” 

“You and me are gonna take a little walk,” Gaspar said, digging the pistol into his ribs painfully. “And if you draw any attention to us, I’ll shoot whichever of your friends is still standing. You understand me, freak?”

“I understand,” d’Artagnan growled. He felt Gaspar reach around him and had to fight not to cringe. A moment later, his weapons fell to the floor. He tried not to panic, telling himself that Athos and the others were right outside. Gaspar would not get ten feel with him before Athos took him down.

D’Artagnan let himself be led out of the tavern fully expecting to find his brothers lying in wait outside. What he found instead was pandemonium. Glancing toward the side of the tavern, he saw Aramis crumpled on the ground and his heart leapt to his throat. He cried out then, not caring about the pistol pressed against his side, as worry for his brothers overrode everything else.

“Let him go,” Athos ordered as he stepped out from the other side of the building. Porthos was next to him, leaning heavily against the wall as blood poured down his arm.

“Now why would I want to do that?” Gaspar asked snidely. 

“Let him go or I will kill you,” Athos repeated, his stomach churning in despair. He could see the pistol where it dug into his brother’s side. One wrong move and d’Artagnan would be dead before Athos could even reach him.

“I don’t think so,” Gaspar said, growing cocky. He had caught a glance of the man in the other alley and knew he was down. That left only these two, one of which was losing blood at a rapid rate. “I think you got enough to worry about with your friend there.”

Athos stiffened at the mention of Porthos but didn’t take his eyes from the man. The worst part of all this was that he was right. Porthos was losing blood. Too much blood. And he had no idea how badly hurt Aramis was. In fact, he was no more a threat to this man at the moment than d’Artagnan himself was. 

“Yeah. That’s what I thought,” Gaspar chuckled. “Me and this one are gonna take a little walk. You just worry about your friends. This one ain’t your concern any more.”

&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M

It felt like it took forever to rouse Aramis enough to get him up and moving toward the garrison. He had been hit over the back of the head with something, rendering him unconscious. Whatever it was, it had left a bloody gash in its wake as well as leaving Aramis barely able to walk. He’d had to stop twice to vomit, the pain in his head growing too excruciating to ignore. By the time they came dragging through the garrison gate Porthos had grown weak as well, his blood still dripping from the musket wound in his shoulder.

“What happened?” Francois shouted as he rushed toward them. He reached them just in time to catch Aramis as the man collapsed, his eyes rolling back in his head.

“Infirmary, now,” Athos said, slinging Porthos’ good arm around his shoulder so he could help bear his brother’s weight. The commotion drew the attention of the rest of the garrison and men quickly helped get their two injured brothers into the infirmary.

“What happened?” Treville asked, coming to stand beside Athos.

Athos gave the Captain a brief run down of what happened, telling him of finding Porthos shot and no sign of Aramis when he had run into he street. “Someone tipped them off,” he said. “They knew we were going to be there. They were waiting for us.”

“What happened to d’Artagnan?” Treville asked.

“Gaspar, the one apparently in charge, took him,” Athos spat, anger and worry twisting inside him sickeningly. 

“Why?” 

“Because they have a history,” Athos said. “And, I believe, as a warning to us. I need to get after them.”

“Not alone,” Porthos growled from the cot where he lay. After determining that Aramis was merely unconscious again from the blow he took to the head, Francois had removed the musket ball from Porthos’ shoulder and sewn it up. 

“If I wait much longer there will be no trail left to follow,” Athos shot back.

“Athos, Porthos is right,” Treville said. “Going after them alone will only get you killed. Take a contingent of men and go...”

“We can’t,” Athos interrupted, closing his eyes in pain. “Word would reach the Cardinal before we even made it to the Court. He would use d’Artagnan’s disappearance as a reason to raze the Court to the ground.”

“I can go,” Porthos said, struggling to rise.

“Lay back down!” Francois snapped. He had been tending to the gash on the back of Aramis’ head and listening to them talk. “You will do them no good passed out in the street.”

“My brother’s...”

“Two hours,” Francois said. “Give your body two hours to rest and heal. If you can stand without dizziness then I won’t stop you.”

Those two hours felt like the longest of Athos’ entire life. Aramis had come around a couple of time but he kept going in and out of consciousness. Porthos was growing as impatient as Athos but he knew the boy was right. He was no good to Athos if he collapsed in the street yet he could not stop thinking of their missing brother and what all he might be enduring as they sat idly by.

Francois didn’t like it, but he didn’t try to stop them when Porthos got shakily to his feet. The man’s color was better, not nearly as ashen as when he had first come stumbling back through the gate. He had offered to go with them but Athos had told him no, that they would be better served with him here tending to Aramis. Reluctantly, he had agreed and was forced to watch as they headed back out into Paris in search of d’Artagnan.

Four hours later, the weary and heart-sore pair returned to the garrison. Their brother’s trail had gone cold almost from the start, as if the men who took him knew they had time and had made sure to erase any trace of their passing. They had searched all around the tavern, up and down the alleys and streets, but found nothing. Porthos had even sent a message to Flea but she had come up empty-handed as well. When they realized they were doing little more than going in circles, Athos had called a halt and they had reluctantly headed back.

As they made their way across the compound, they saw that Aramis was sitting at their table. He looked toward them, his eyes full of hope, and they could only watch as that hope died when he realized they were alone. 

“You did not find him?” Treville asked, though the answer was obvious.

“No,” Athos shook his head as he came over and sat down next to Aramis at the table. “They knew I wouldn’t be able to give chase straight away. They took the time to cover their tracks.”

“Athos, what...” Aramis began, trailing off as his heart twisted painfully.

“We will get him back,” Athos said as firmly as he could. “We may not have found their trail but... but we did not find a body either. Take comfort from that much at least.”

“You men go home,” Treville said. “I’ll send a patrol down that way and have them look for any sign of him. Perhaps someone not known to them will have more luck.”

Knowing they could do little else, they obeyed the Captain’s orders and went home. The walk was a silent one with Athos and Porthos on either side of Aramis lest he grow dizzy once more. When they got home, Athos pressed both his brothers into chairs at the table then pulled a bottle of wine from the cupboard. 

“We will find him,” he said again. “I swear to you, Aramis, I will get him back.”

“I know,” Aramis replied. “Yet I cannot help but despair for the condition he will be in when you do. These men will not treat him kindly, Athos. They will hurt him. They will...”

“Hey, easy now,” Porthos said. “We’ll get him back, love.”

“I know. I know. It’s just... He’s all alone.”

“It’s gonna be okay, love,” Porthos said. “Lad’s strong. He’ll be okay until we can get to him.”

“Come on,” Athos said, pushing back from the table. He took Aramis by the arm and helped him to his feet. “You both need rest. Come morning we will turn this city upside down until we find him but for now you must rest.”


	25. Chapter 25

D’Artagnan came awake with a groan. It took him a moment to remember where he was, to remember why everything hurt, even breathing. Especially breathing. Gaspar was every bit the sadist d’Artagnan remembered him to be. He had enjoyed hurting him, cackling gleefully as he strung him up by his wrists. He’d left him hanging there for close to half a day, if his judgment of the time was correct, before he came back in and starting pounding on him.

He had concentrated on his ribs, as if trying to see if he could break them with his fists alone. D’Artagnan wouldn’t be surprised if he had considering how much drawing a breath hurt. His arms stretched over his head only added to it. His cohorts had stood around watching, calling out encouragement and egging Gaspar on. He had tried to distance himself from the pain, to let his mind go somewhere else but Gaspar’s taunts were hard to ignore. When he had noticed Athos’ ring it had taken all of his restraint to hold his tongue.

“Got yourself a little wife, have you?” Gaspar taunted after prying the ring from d’Artagnan’s finger, dislocating it in the process. “Bet she’s a pretty thing. Is she pretty, Charlie? Maybe I should pay her a visit. Show her what a real man can do.”

“Leave hi-her alone,” d’Artagnan snarled, barely remembering to say her rather than him. He tried to ignore it when Gaspar went on to describe all the things he would do to d’Artagnan’s ‘wife’ but his mind would not let him, substituting Athos for his supposed wife and making his blood boil. 

“Don’t think you’re in any position to tell me what to do,” Gaspar said as he began pummeling d’Artagnan’s ribs and stomach once more. 

D’Artagnan did his best to keep from crying out but it was no use. After a while he gave up and instead concentrated on enduring. He might not be able to hold in the sounds of his pain but he would not ask this monster for mercy. Even when he took a heated iron and pressed it to his skin, he did not beg though he screamed until his voice gave out. 

&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M

Treville was waiting for the three of them on the landing outside his office. The men he’d sent out had come up just as empty-handed as Athos and Porthos had. He was not looking forward to telling the three of them that, knowing they weren’t going to take it well. As much as he wanted to give them permission to start tearing Paris apart in search of the boy, he couldn’t. 

What Athos had said yesterday had not changed. They couldn’t risk the Cardinal finding out which meant that the three of them would have to be circumspect in their search. Considering how little success they’d had thus far, he didn’t hold out much hope. Unless these people made a mistake or someone was willing to talk to them, their chances of finding d’Artagnan were slim.

“Did they find anything?” Athos asked without preamble when they joined Treville at the top of the stairs. 

“No,” Treville shook his head. “I want you men to continue your search, but do so quietly.”

“Quietly?” Aramis bristled. If the Captain thought they were going to simply go out and politely _ask_ if anyone had seen these men or d’Artagnan he was out of his mind. 

“Yes, Aramis, quietly,” Treville replied. “I don’t like it any more than you do, but what Athos said yesterday still holds true. The Cardinal cannot find out about this. So tread lightly, gentlemen, and find my missing Musketeer.”

They decided to return to the tavern. Someone had tipped the kidnappers off about them. Considering how few people would have known, their suspect pool was rather limited. That wasn’t to say that it had not spread second or third hand but they had to start somewhere.

&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M

Gaspar laughed when d’Artagnan moaned in pain and gave him another push. They had hoisted him up higher so that his feet couldn’t reach the ground bringing all of his weight to bear on his bound wrists. Blood trickled down his arms where the rope had cut into them and the sight of it gave him a visceral thrill.

“Your friends been looking for you,” he said as he shoved d’Artagnan again. “They won’t find you, though. Nobody’s going to talk. They’re too scared of what we’ll do. They don’t want it to be their families carted off in the night.”

“What... What are you doing to... to them?” D’Artagnan asked. When his brothers came for him, and he knew they would, he needed as much information as he could get.

“Aww. Ain’t that cute,” Gaspar chuckled and drove his fist into his captive’s ribs once more. He aimed for the burnt and charred area where he had burned him and was gratified by the high-pitched scream his action produced. “He still thinks he’s gonna get out of here and stop us.”

“Don’t matter anyway,” one of the other men said. “Them folks is long gone. The Spanish, they pay top dollar for French slaves.”

“Don’t you worry, Charlie. We ain’t gonna sell you,” Gaspar said, giving him a viscous shove that sent him swaying in his bonds. “We got other plans for you.”

&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M

Returning to the garrison empty-handed for a second time was almost more than Athos could bear. The walk up the stairs to report to the Captain felt like he was walking to the gallows. He knew what Treville was going to say and he did not want to hear it. He did not think he could stand to hear it.

When they entered his office Treville knew right away that they had not found d’Artagnan. All three of them looked weary to the bone but Athos was the worst. For all that might have changed between these men, Athos still considered d’Artagnan his protege, still considered him his responsibility. And it was clear that responsibility was weighing heavily on the man.

“No luck?” Treville asked, getting right to the heart of things. 

“No,” Athos spat. “No one is talking. It is as if he vanished into thin air.”

Treville nodded and sighed. “At least you have not found a body. Take heart from that.”

“And if they simply slit his throat and dumped him in the river?” Athos snarled. “He could have been dead five minutes after they took him and we’d never know!” Sick inside at the thought of losing d’Artagnan, Athos spun around and slammed his fist into the wall behind him. For one brief moment the pain in his hand eclipsed the pain in his heart but it did not last.

“Athos!” Treville shouted as he surged to his feet.

“Athos... Brother, no,” Porthos said grabbing his arm so he could not punch the wall again. It reminded Porthos of the time he’d found d’Artagnan out in the barn beating his fist into the side of one of the stalls. 

“Take him home,” Treville said. “I will send another patrol out this evening to search. You can start again at first light.”

They managed to get Athos home without any further injury. Porthos helped him off with his doublet and weapons then took him into the sitting room while Aramis went to fetch his kit. Coming back into the sitting room, he pulled the chair up next to the divan and sat down. Taking Athos’ hand, he gently turned it over and examined the bruised knuckles.

“I didn’t break anything,” Athos said dully.

“No, you didn’t,” Aramis agreed, relieved. “But this is still going to be painful for a few days.”

Athos barked out a laugh and shook his head. “I don’t even feel it.”

“Brother, we’ll get him back,” Porthos said earnestly. 

“He could very well be dead already for all we know,” Athos said, repeating his earlier words.

“He isn’t,” Aramis said. His tone made it clear that he would brook no argument. They were going to get d’Artagnan back safe and sound. Any other outcome was simply unthinkable. 

Athos wisely kept quiet, unwilling to destroy Aramis’ hope even if he held very little himself. He would not give up on his brother, he would not stop looking until they found him, but he had always been a pragmatist at heart.

They stayed together in the sitting room after Aramis wrapped his hand. Aramis moved onto the divan then, urging Athos into the middle for once. There, he and Porthos moved in close, bracketing him and letting him feel their presence. Aramis understood despair quite well. He knew it and Athos were old friends. He would not allow his brother to succumb to it, though. They needed him. And d’Artagnan would too once they got him back.

Dinner was almost silent, the only sounds the soft prodding of Aramis to get Athos to eat. He knew the food probably tasted like ash in his mouth but it was necessary all the same. They were going to need their strength if they were going to bring their Whelp home.

Afterwards, Aramis directed Porthos to take Athos up to bed, saying he would be along shortly once he set the kitchen to rights. In truth, he wanted a moment to prepare himself. While he and Athos might have shared a bed this was the first time that Aramis would be joining them in the master bedroom. He knew he was probably making too big a deal of it but he could not help that it felt like a big deal to him. 

When he finally made it up to the room, he found Athos and Porthos sitting together on the side of the bed. Both men were at least down to their smalls and Athos smiled shyly at the pair. “I can go,” Porthos said, starting to rise only for Aramis to press him back down. 

“No one is going anywhere,” he stated firmly. “We are staying right here, together.”

“Aramis...” Porthos began, unsure what he wanted to say only knowing that something must be said.

“I will be alright,” Aramis told him, touched by the care he was taking with him. “But Athos needs us now. Both of us. So, if you do not mind taking the inside for once...”

“Course not,” Porthos said quickly. He still could not fathom that Aramis meant to stay with them, with both of them, this night. If he needed him to take the far wall for once so as not to feel penned in then Porthos was more than willing to.

“Why don’t you two go ahead and slide into bed while I get undressed,”Aramis suggested. He tried to make his voice sound casual, like it was an every day occurrence. Before the attack, it would have been and that was the part that galled him the most. That the Darkness’ attack on them was, in essence, still going on. And it would be, as long as Aramis kept holding his brothers at bay.

“‘Mis? What is it?” Porthos asked. He had gotten into bed and moved over until his back was against the wall, pulling Athos in along with him so that he was lying in the center of the big bed. They had watched then as Aramis began to strip out of his clothes but the man had gone still half-way through and was just standing in the middle of the room, braces pulled down and one long shirt-sleeve unlaced.

“Ah, nothing. Sorry,” Aramis said, embarrassed at being caught daydreaming. He quickly went about shedding the rest of this clothes only hesitating slightly when he stepped out of his breeches. This was the most naked he had been with his lovers since the attack. Even the other night, Athos had kept his shirt on, not wanting to infringe upon him in some way.

When Aramis finally laid down on the outside of the bed, Athos moved toward him at once. Rolling on his side, he pressed himself against Aramis, letting his head come to rest against his shoulder so he could breathe in the scent of him. His hands grasped at Aramis’ hips, too tight by far, but he could not make himself let go. He had let go of d’Artagnan and now he was gone. He would not risk the same with Aramis.

“Oh love,” Aramis whispered, wrapping his arms around Athos and holding him. When he did not feel Porthos at his back, he reached toward him blindly. That big, gentle hand took his at once and Aramis pulled him toward them until he was pressed up against Athos’ back the same way he was pressed against his front.

“We will get him back,” Aramis said putting every bit of certainty he could into his words. “I promise you... both of you... we will get him back.”

“You can’t promise that,” Athos said mimicking Aramis’ own words about the Whelp from days ago.

“I just did,” Aramis told him. “I told d’Artagnan I wasn’t giving him up without a fight. I will tell you two the same thing. I will not lose him. I will not allow somebody to come and... and take what is ours. After all, the last person who sought to do so no longer has a head.”

Athos let Aramis’ words settle over him like a warm blanket. He was right. They were going to get him back. That was all there was to it. He would not lose his lover, his brother. Aramis would not lose his Master. And Porthos... Porthos would not lose the chance to build something with the boy. 

“Porthos?” Aramis called his eyes never leaving Athos’ face. “You are being rather quiet.”

“Just thinking,” Porthos said though he did snuggle down the tiniest bit closer to Athos.

“I meant what I said,” Aramis told him. “We will get him back. I do not know if this Darkness is somehow involved or if it is simply a case of unfortunate timing. Either way, it does not matter. I did not allow the likes of Elisabeth Bathory to part us. I will not allow us to be parted now.”

“Missed you, love,” Porthos admitted softly. It eased him inside to see Aramis like this again, to see his old, confident self. Porthos wished he could go back in time and simply lay waste to everyone that had damaged this man in one way or another, including himself. He knew he couldn’t, that it was no more than idle fantasy but that did nothing to change his desire.

“I am right here,” Aramis said, though he understood to what Porthos was referring. He had not acted this confidently in months. In truth, he had not felt this confident in months. Cowering in the shadows was not going to get his brother back, though.

&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M

When Aramis awoke, Athos was still curled against him clutching him tightly. It was almost as if Athos was afraid to let go, afraid that he, too, would be taken from him. That thought sent a shudder through Aramis and he unconsciously tightened his own grip on the man. He had known their return to Paris would be difficult. He had not expected to find danger lurking around every corner. It left him feeling hunted, as if his enemies were slowly closing in, tightening an ever shrinking circle around them all until they had nowhere left to run.

With a shake, Aramis angrily brushed those thoughts from his mind. They would help no one. Not Athos and certainly not d’Artagnan. That was what he should be focusing on now - his brothers. Placing a kiss to Athos’ forehead, he began to carefully extricate himself from the bed. He was almost out when Athos’ eyes shot open and his hand clamped down on his arm. 

“Don’t go,” Athos said weakly.

“I’m just going down to make some breakfast, that’s all.”

“Not alone,” Athos said then clamped his mouth shut. He had not meant to say that aloud. He knew how pathetic it made him sound but he couldn’t help it. D’Artagnan had been taken from right under his nose after all.

“How about I go down with him?” Porthos asked. He had come awake to the pair talking, having felt the man go stiff in his arms. 

“Yes, alright,” Athos said. “I’ll be down shortly to join you.”

Aramis didn’t really like the idea of leaving Athos alone even just to go downstairs but he didn’t argue. He thought his brother might like a few minutes to himself to get his wayward emotions under control once more. They were all sick with worry about d’Artagnan but this seemed to be affecting Athos even more. Knowing his brother’s penchant for guilt, he imagined that he felt responsible in some way for what happened. 

“He seems to be holding up well,” Porthos said as they worked together to prepare a quick breakfast.

“Hm. So it would seem,” Aramis replied with a sigh. “And how are you holding up?”

“I’m... I’m okay,” Porthos said. He looked at Aramis then had to look away for he was not okay. He was not okay at all. Their boy was out there somewhere, hurt, likely scared, and he needed them. 

“Porthos?” Aramis called, frowning. His brother did not sound ‘okay’. His brother sounded on the verge of losing his composure, something Porthos rarely did.

“I’m okay,” Porthos said again, scrubbing at his eyes. 

“It is alright if you are not,” Aramis told him. Reaching out, he took Porthos’ hand and squeezed it. “I know he means a great deal to you as well. We will get him back, brother. I swear it.”

Upstairs, Athos had stayed where he was until he heard the door close behind his lovers then he sat up. Throwing his legs over the side of the bed, he sat hunched over, his head in his hands as he tried to get himself under control. 

After a few moments, he raised his head and looked about as if unsure exactly of where he was. He spied Aramis’ bible on the nightstand and reached for it. It felt heavy in his hands. Solid. Athos wished he could draw the comfort from it that his brother did. Aramis believed in God. Thought Him benevolent, like a doting father eager to protect His children yet aware of his duty to teach them at the same time. Athos was not sure what he believed, if he believed in anything at all. He knew true evil existed. He had seen it firsthand. So if true evil existed then true good must for darkness cannot exist without light.

Trying to think rationally about everything, Athos thought of Aramis and what he would think. “Aramis would consider this a lesson,” he said aloud. “Is that what this is? Are You trying to show me that I really can only have one of them by my side? Is that the lesson? If it is... if it is then why not simply take me now and let the boy go? I know I do not deserve a tenth of the joy I have found. But please, please do not take your displeasure out on him.”

“Athos?” Aramis asked, pushing the bedroom door open fully and stepping inside. He had only wanted to check on the man since he had not come down yet but what he heard made his heart ache.

“Aramis. Sorry,” Athos said, setting the Bible back down hastily.

“You do not truly believe that, do you?” Aramis asked as he walked over and sat down beside him. He reached between them and took Athos’ hand in his, holding it tight. When Athos failed to answer he went on. “God does not teach his lessons in so cruel a way as this. This is not His way of saying you must choose.”

“How can you know that?” Athos asked hopefully.

“Because my God, the God I believe in, loves his children. If there is a lesson to be taught it is not done with cruelty. That is not His way.”

“You think your face is His way of curing you of your vanity,” Athos pointed out.

“No. I might have at first when I was still struggling but I know that is not what it is.”

“Then what is it? For I can find nothing but cruelty in forcing you to suffer so.”

“It is His way of... of tempering me. My fight was not over, you see. This was His way of strengthening the steel within me for the fight to come. And yes, it does seem a cruel way to go about it but I do not believe any other would have been as effective.”

“Then what is He making me stronger for?” Athos asked. 

“Athos,” Aramis shook his head. “It is not your strength He is tempering, love. It is your faith.”

The walk to the garrison was a quick one. Aramis’ words had gone a long way toward calming the uncertainty and fear within Athos. He still wondered if this was not God’s way of showing him that he had to make a choice but he pushed that aside. He would worry about that after d’Artagnan was safely back with them. 

The talk with the Captain was brief. The men he’d sent out the night before had found nothing but the men had sensed an overall feeling of unease. While that could be nothing more than the heightened Musketeer presence of late, they all felt there was more to it than that. With little else to go on, they started at the tavern again. This time they did as before, spreading themselves out and waiting. 

It was close to noontime. The tavern had been filling up for the last hour allowing them to blend in with the regulars. They all kept their uniforms hidden from view, not wanting to tip anyone off that might still be watching for them. Porthos had taken the back corner where the shadows kept him from being easily spotted. Athos tensed every time some new patron entered the place. The only thing that kept him still, kept him in his seat and waiting, was Aramis. 

Aramis was like a statue beside him. He had gone still. The kind of still he got when he was lining up a kill. Some of the men had likened him to a gargoyle, forever frozen in stone except for his eyes. He was like that now, his eyes tracking every movement, from the barkeep to the serving girls to the patrons. His eyes continually raked over the lot of them, taking in all those tiny bits of information that only his eyes could. Athos and Porthos would both know when the time to move came for Aramis would be the one to signal it.

Still, when one of the men who had taken d’Artagnan came strolling through the door it was all Athos could do to remain in his seat. He felt Aramis’ hand on his leg beneath the table and it was enough to halt him. “Brother?” Athos asked under his breath, his eyes riveted to the man.

“Not yet,” Aramis said, his own eyes locked on their prey. “We need to see if he’s alone or if he’s meeting anyone. Soon, brother. I swear it.”

“Of course,” Athos said, chiding himself for wanting to blindly rush in. How Aramis was keeping his head in all of this, Athos had no idea. He knew for a fact the man was as frantic as he to find the lad. Yet he sat, still and waiting, tracking their quarry. “On your signal.”

Aramis sat, waiting and watching. He kept his hat tipped down to hide his eyes as he silently tracked the man as well as the rest of the occupants of the tavern. They still did not know who had tipped the men off. It could very well be someone there now. For that reason, he did not want to move against the man here. They had no idea if any of his accomplices were there. It would not do d’Artagnan any good to confront this man only to find themselves outnumbered again.

When the man finally stood up to leave, Aramis gave the signal. Porthos carefully slid further into the shadows and headed for the back door. He didn’t like this part of the plan, leaving Athos and Aramis unguarded, but there was nothing to be done for it. Outside, he came up one of the alleys and waited for the others to come out. 

He didn’t have to wait long. The man they were after came out straight away causing Porthos to duck back into the alley lest he be seen. He watched as the man looked up and down the street then headed off to the east. Athos and Aramis emerged a few seconds later and the three began to follow the man as surreptitiously as they could. 

Faster than they expected they found themselves being led into the darkest recesses of the Court. Even Porthos did not know this place well. It was where the cut throats and more brutal of the Court’s residents gathered. While his size assured most would let him pass, it was no guarantee and even Court law didn’t often reach this far. No wonder they hadn’t been able to find these men. If they were operating out of here, no one would have dared talk.

&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M

“Well, Charlie, as much as I’d like to really draw this out, it’s time for you to go,” Gaspar said as he walked over to where d’Artagnan hung limply in his bonds. 

“Tired of me already?” D’Artagnan quipped though the words had a breathless quality to them as if he could not draw quite enough air to get to them out.

“Hah! If it was up to me, I’d keep you hanging there until you rotted,” Gaspar smirked as he began coiling the rope in his hands into a noose. “But the boys are getting kind of edgy what with having a Musketeer around and all. Figure I better just finish you off and be done with it.”

“Go to Hell,” d’Artagnan said eyeing the noose the man had fashioned. “My brothers will kill you for this.”

“Your brothers ain’t gonna find me,” Gaspar said. “And when I send what’s left of you back, they’ll know to keep their noses out of Court business.”

D’Artagnan was about to argue when the rope holding him up by his arms was suddenly cut. He crashed to the ground with a painful grunt, unable to catch himself. He tried to pull his arms down but the muscles were locked up. Before he was able to get his wits about him, Gaspar’s cronies were on him. He cried out as his arms were jerked behind his back, the muscles screaming in protest at the abrupt movement. He tried to kick out but someone grabbed his feet and lashed his ankles together as well before pulling him roughly to his feet.

“We’ll give your regards to your wife,” Gaspar leered as he slipped the noose over d’Artagnan’s head and pulled it tight. Stepping back, he took a moment to admire the picture before him. Oh how he wished he had more time to play but it was just too risky. Taking one last look, he gave a nod and watched as two of his men threw the end of the noose over a tree branch then pulled hard. 

D’Artagnan tried to brace himself for what he knew was coming. He had a moment, when he felt the rope tighten, then he was being jerked off his feet. The rope cut into his throat, squeezing his windpipe so that he could not draw air. He tried to gasp, to cry out, to do anything, but nothing worked. He felt the coarse rope abrade his neck where it hauled him upward to dangle above the ground. He tried to kick out but with his legs bound together he could hardly move. His hands opened and closed behind his back as he struggled feebly. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest as spots danced in front of his eyes.

He thought he could hear Gaspar laughing but it was as if he were underwater, the sound faint and muffled. His eyes were starting to grow dim and his struggles to free his hands had all but stopped. In that moment, d’Artagnan realized he was going to die. Athos was not going to find him in time. He was going to die here and there was nothing he could do to stop it. In his last moments, he began to pray, asking God not to let his brothers find him like this. It would be better if they simply dumped him in the river than for the others to know what he had gone through. He thought of his brothers, calling them to mind even as his world went black.

&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M

Without warning, the man they were following entered a small courtyard of sorts where three other men stood. They recognized one of them as Gaspar. Athos was about to give the signal to move in when Aramis cried out.

“No!” Aramis shouted when he caught sight of d’Artagnan hanging limply by a noose around his neck.

Athos looked to where Aramis was looking and felt his blood turn to ice. With a shout, he charged toward the men intent on only one thing - getting to his lover. Aramis and Porthos had followed on Athos’ heels and moved to flank him, knowing that at the moment their brother saw nothing other than d’Artagnan. 

Knowing they were no match for three enraged Musketeers, Gaspar’s men fled. Gaspar followed them but not before giving d’Artagnan’s body a push sending it swinging. Cackling with glee, he followed his men, confident that the Musketeers would know to leave them be.

Athos felt his vision go red at the sight of d’Artagnan’s lifeless body hanging in the middle of the courtyard. He took in everything at once, his mind filing it away for later when he could deal with it. D’Artagnan’s face was flushed to the point of being purple and his bare feet were a good three feet off the ground. He was shirtless and his chest was littered with cuts and bruises along with a horrid burn that ran all down one side of him.

Athos rushed to his lover, grabbing him about the waist and trying to lift him to take the weight off his neck. The fact that d’Artagnan hung limply, that he did not so much as twitch when Athos lifted him made his heart turn to ice again. He couldn’t be dead. They couldn’t be too late. He could not lose him now.

Porthos and Aramis reached the pair a few seconds later. Porthos quickly cut the rope that was holding d’Artagnan up and his limp body crashed to the ground, taking Athos with him. Aramis was beside them in an instant, slipping his dagger between d’Artagnan’s neck and the noose and cutting him free. Together with Athos, they laid him out on his back and began trying to rouse him. Aramis blew air into his mouth, inflating his lungs but d’Artagnan did not react. He repeated the action again and again as Athos held onto d’Artagnan’s hand and begged him to come back to them. 

On the fourth breath, d’Artagnan gave a feeble cough. Aramis and Athos quickly helped him sit up as he began to suck in gasping breath after gasping breath. Porthos joined them then, relieved to see that d’Artagnan was not dead after all. When he had seen him hanging there he had assumed the worst. He was relieved beyond measure that he had been wrong. 

Kneeling down beside his brothers, Porthos took off his cloak and carefully wrapped it around d’Artagnan’s bare shoulders. “Come on, brothers. We need to get him out of here. We can check him over once we’ve got him home.”

They hustled him back home as quickly as they could considering they were all but carrying him. They met one of the extra patrols Treville had sent out and had them take word back to the Captain. Two of them men went to inform Treville while the other two helped ensure they got home unmolested. Even as harried as he was, Athos was grateful and told the men as much as they left.

“Should I go get a doctor?” Porthos asked once they had d’Artagnan laid out on the sofa in the sitting room. It seemed impossible, but the boy looked worse now than he had when they had first got to him. The color was returning to him and with it the stark evidence of what all had been done to him. The mark left by the rope stood out darkly, even against his normally olive skin. His stomach and ribs were a wild kaleidoscope of purple and black. It would be a miracle if none of his ribs were broken. His back was much the same with his lower back bearing the brunt of the abuse. The worst, though, was the long, red burn mark that ran down d’Artagnan’s left side. It was nearly a foot long and blistered in places. Porthos knew right away it had been done with an iron of some sort, most likely a fireplace poker heated red-hot. Thinking of their Whelp enduring such a thing and alone at that, made his heart ache and his stomach twist. 

“No,” Aramis said as he began looking over the younger man’s injuries. None of them appeared life-threatening. He was confident he could treat them here and he knew d’Artagnan would prefer it that way. 

“Are you sure?” Athos asked. It wasn’t that he doubted Aramis’ skills but it was d’Artagnan.

“Yes,” Aramis said firmly. “One of you fetch me my kit and heat some water.”

Porthos nodded and clapped Athos on the shoulder as he went to get what Aramis asked for. He knew he would be no better if it was Aramis lying there so simply did what he could to help. When he returned, Athos was sitting on one side of d’Artagnan holding tightly to his hand while Aramis began examining his injuries. 

Aramis started with the burn on his side, examining it as best he could without touching it. It was a good eight inches long and ran down his ribs on the left. It was red and angry looking where the skin wasn’t charred and blackened. The scarring from this would be considerable but nothing that could not be hidden beneath his uniform. No one would know of it save them, though he doubted if d’Artagnan would find much comfort in that. But that was for later. Right now, they needed to get him past the trauma of all that had been done to him. 

“I need to make a salve for this,” Aramis said softly. He rattled off a list of herbs for Porthos to fetch and turned his attention back to d’Artagnan once more. He examined the various cuts and welts along the front of him. There were a few other superficial burns but Aramis didn’t think anything needed to be done for them. When Porthos returned, he took a moment to prepare a salve to go over the burn on his side then sat back on his heels. 

“Aramis?” Athos called when he saw him draw back.

“No worries, brother,” Aramis said. “I was merely thinking how best to go about examining his ribs. I am sure one or two of them are broken.”

“Do you want me to sit him up?” Athos asked. 

“Not just yet, no,” Aramis replied. “I’ll need you to when I go to wrap them, though.”

As gently as he could, Aramis began running his fingers along d’Artagnan’s ribs. Even half-conscious the lad could not help but cry out and try to jerk away. Athos did his best to quiet him, assuring him that it was just Aramis and it would be over soon. 

“Well, I don’t know how but nothing’s broken,” Aramis said. “I think one or two may be cracked but I can feel no actual breaks.”

“Thank God,” Porthos said.

“Indeed,” Aramis replied. “Now I just need to get this burn seen to. Athos, can you hold him up now?”

They maneuvered around a bit until Athos had d’Artagnan sitting up. Porthos held his arm up and out of the way while Aramis began to carefully apply the salve he had made. He had to harden his heart when d’Artagnan flinched and tried to pull away, telling himself it was for the lad’s own good. Still, it was hard to listen to the small noises of pain that escaped him as he worked. As soon as the salve was on, he wound a loose bandage all around his ribs, both to cover the salve and to give some protection to his damaged ribs. By the time he was finished, d’Artagnan was shaking slightly as he clung to Athos’ arm for support.

“All done,” Aramis announced sitting back. “Come on. Let’s get him upstairs where he can rest. I can make a tea for the pain.”

It was slow going up the staircase with Athos on one side of d’Artagnan and Aramis on the other. Porthos brought up the rear, taking a few minutes to set the sitting room to rights before following them up. When he got there, he found Athos holding up d’Artagnan while Aramis removed the lad’s breeches, leaving him in just his smalls and the various bandages Aramis had wrapped him in.

They laid him out on the bed, moving him as far into the center of it as they could. Even as they did so, d’Artagnan couldn’t help but whine. It wasn’t the pain. He had stopped caring about the pain days ago. It was that he was finally back with his brothers and could not stand the thought of being apart from them. 

“Shh. It’s okay,” Athos soothed as he pulled the blanket up over d’Artagnan’s legs, leaving his freshly swathed torso uncovered. 

“Li-li-little One,” d’Artagnan whispered brokenly, his throat so raw he could barely get the words out. 

Everyone froze when d’Artagnan called for Little One. He had not made a single reference to him since the attack. They all remembered how Aramis had reacted to it when he had used it that first night back. Glancing around the room, Aramis saw his brothers watching him expectantly. With a much more confident smile than he felt, Aramis moved toward the bed. He sat down on the side of it and reached toward d’Artagnan, taking up the young man’s hand.

“Shh. Easy now. I am here, Master,” Aramis said though his voice broke on the word. 

D’Artagnan squeezed his eyes shut tight and tried to curl up as much as his battered body would allow. For his Little One to see him like this, so utterly broken, shamed him. The only thing worse was the thought of Athos seeing him in such straits. To top it off, he had lost Athos’ ring.

All that and more swirled and crashed through d’Artagnan’s mind. He did not realize he had begun to shake as his emotions crashed over him in a relentless tidal wave. It felt as though he was drowning, as though they were pulling him under and all he could think to do was call out for Little One.

Aramis was at a loss as he watched his Master seem to crumple in on himself. He was curled into himself as tightly as his injuries would allow, his eyes squeezed shut and his chin tucked into his chest as if trying to hide every part of himself that he could. When he saw the first tear slip out from beneath those tightly sealed eyes, he felt his own heart give a painful lurch.

“Oh Master, no,” Aramis said as he carefully moved onto the bed. Not wanting to cause him any further pain, he laid down facing him, moving close enough so that he could rest their foreheads together. Still holding his hands, he slowly pulled them up and placed a soft kiss to his bruised and bloodied knuckles. 

“I am here, Master,” Aramis told him again. “I am here and I will not leave you. Athos and Porthos, they are here, too. You are safe now. I promise, you are safe.” 

“We shall be downstairs if you have need of us,” Athos whispered as he placed a kiss on first Aramis’ cheek then d’Artagnan’s. He pulled the door most of the way closed, leaving it standing ajar before heading downstairs to the sitting room with Porthos.

“If you would rather Athos be here…” Aramis began unsure what it was their youngest truly needed right then. He was not sure that d’Artagnan himself even knew. It was clear from the state of him that he had been sorely abused. Aramis shuddered anew at the thought of the burn running down his side and how frightened he must have been.

“Want you,” d’Artagnan rasped. “But… but… you don’t…”

“Oh love,” Aramis whispered, his heart clenching as he realized what it was d’Artagnan was trying to say. “Of course I want to be here. I would be nowhere else. Do you not know how scared I have been these past days?”

“Wh-why?”

“Because you are my brother and my lover and… and my… my Master… and I did not know if I would ever see you again,” Aramis replied. “I tried to be strong for Athos but inside I was going mad with worry.”

“Shouldn’t worry for me,” d’Artagnan managed, his ravaged throat barely able to get the words out.

“You are as stupid as our brothers if you think for one minute that I will ever not worry for you,” Aramis told him. “I never stopped worrying for you. I know I have kept my distance, that I have needed time, but I never stopped caring about any of you. I never stopped loving you, d’Artagnan.”

D’Artagnan opened his mouth, ostensibly to argue yet again but all that came out was a strangled sob. He tried to curl up even further then but Aramis refused to let him, sliding closer to him and carefully pulling him against him. Without thought, his hands latched onto Aramis’ shirt, gripping it weakly as he began to shake, his relief at finally being home again breaking free at last.

Aramis thought his heart would break as d’Artagnan began to shake in his arms. He could feel his shirt growing damp where his head rested and knew he was crying. While he realized it was for the best, it still hurt to see this proud young man brought so low. When he got his hands on whoever was behind this, he would make them wish they had never been born.

Downstairs, Porthos sat Athos down on the sofa before heading into the kitchen. He came back out a moment later with a bottle of wine and poured them both a mug. Pressing one into Athos’ hand, he sat down beside him and for a few minutes they simply sat and drank as the realization that d’Artagnan was safely back with them set in. 

“He’s gonna be okay,” Porthos said at last as he refilled both their mugs. 

“I know,” Athos said, taking another long drink. “He is strong. Stronger by far than me. This will not best him.”

“You’re strong, too, brother,” Porthos said. 

“Am I?” Athos challenged gesturing toward his half empty mug.

“Yes,” Porthos told him. “You aren’t that man anymore, Athos. You haven’t been for a long time. Let him go. He’s got no place here.”

Athos sighed and leaned back resting his head on the back of the sofa. “You’re right. I was feeling sorry for myself.”

“You’re just overwhelmed, that’s all. We got him back but what they did to him... It’s gonna take some time to undo all that. No one’s going to fault you for getting a bit discouraged. Just know, I’m here for you and so is Aramis.”

“Thank you, my friend. I know this has not been easy for you either.”

“Look, why don’t you head back upstairs and spend some time with him?” Porthos suggested. He understood that was what Athos truly needed, to see with his own eyes and feel with his own hands that the lad was back with them.

“And force Aramis to tear himself from his side? After d’Artagnan all but begged him to stay? I could never be so callous.”

“I wasn’t saying that. Besides Aramis… he may need a little, uh, space by now. He’s not let anyone but you that close yet. He might not be able to take it being just the two of them up there for long.” Porthos hated saying that aloud, hated admitting that Aramis might still be afraid of being alone with anyone other than Athos. But as much as he hated to say it, that did not make it any less true. 

“I had not thought,” Athos said, his eyes cutting to the stairs as if expecting to see Aramis coming down them. “No, you are right. Even injured though he is, Aramis may not be prepared to be that close to him for long. I… I should go up.”

“Yeah. Just send Aramis back down here. I’ll keep my distance, I promise.”

“Porthos,” Athos chided, shaking his head. “You do not need to keep your distance. Aramis knows in his heart he is as safe with you as he is with me.”

“Well, when the rest of him knows it, too, then I’ll stop worrying about it.”

Seeing there was not much else he could say to convince his brother, and secretly agreeing with him, Athos clapped him on the shoulder and headed up the stairs. He paused just outside the slightly open doorway, his heart melting at the sound of Aramis softly singing to d’Artagnan, the Spanish lilting off his tongue.

Hating to interrupt the scene, Athos slowly pushed the door open and stepped into the room. He saw two sets of eyes fly to him at once and tipped his head in apology. “I did not mean to intrude,” he said. “I only wished to see how you were. If… if you needed anything.”

“It’s alright,” Aramis whispered to d’Artagnan encouragingly. He knew that, as much as the boy wanted him, he wanted Athos just as badly if in a slightly different way. Perhaps now that they’d had some time together he would be settled enough so that Athos could take his place. It wasn’t that he wanted to leave. On the contrary, he had no wish for the younger man to be out of his reach let alone his sight. But Athos had been going mad with worthy these past days and he would not rest easy until he had assured himself that d’Artagnan was going to be alright.

“Little One?” d’Artagnan whispered, unsure. He wanted Athos with him so badly he ached for it but, at the same time, he could not bring himself to loosen his hold on this man. He had been so scared back in the Court. He had not been afraid to die but the thought of never seeing his brothers again, of never seeing Athos or his Little One, had filled him with such a sense of remorse it had been on the tip of his tongue to _beg_ them to let him go. 

“If you do not wish him to leave your side, he will not,” Athos said as he came over and sat down on the side of the bed. He was careful not to crowd Aramis, not wanting to make him feel penned in between the two of them. The man may have been alright with sharing the bed with him and Porthos just last night but Athos understood that for what it was. If Aramis had not been directing all of his concentration on him, he likely would have found the situation untenable. 

“You’ll be close?” d’Artagnan asked, for once not caring how weak he sounded. 

“Just downstairs with Porthos,” Aramis said. He had a fleeting moment of unease at the thought of being alone for any length of time with Porthos but pushed it away before it could take root and grow. “If that is too far…”

“No,” d’Artagnan whispered. “Just…”

“What?”

“Don’t leave,” d’Artagnan said. 

“I will not leave the house,” Aramis promised. “Not without telling you first at the very least. I will not put myself in danger, love. I promise.”

It took a few more minutes and a few more reassurances from Aramis that he would not be far and that he would not be alone no matter what. He understood d’Artagnan’s panic for what it was and knew it would pass with a bit of rest and care. The lad was simply overwrought and could not cope with any more. Aramis would do whatever he could to keep the strain on him to a minimum. 

“Will you be alright?” Athos asked him as he helped Aramis from the bed.

“I’ll be fine,” Aramis assured him, touched by his concern. “Porthos will be with me.”

“Alright. Do not feel as though you cannot call on me, on either of us, if you have need of us.”

“Very well. But for now, concentrate on taking care of him. I will be fine.”

Like Athos, Aramis could not bring himself to close the door all the way but left it standing slightly ajar. He wanted to be able to hear his brothers if they had need of him and, if he was being completely honest, he wanted Athos to be able to hear if he should suddenly find himself in need. Not that he thought Porthos any threat to him. He truly did not, and yet he could not silence that little whisper of doubt within his mind. It was growing quieter. Each day its voice grew the tiniest bit fainter, but it was not altogether gone. During his darker moments, Aramis wondered if it ever completely would be. 

“Everything okay?” Porthos asked when Aramis came into the sitting room. He tried to hide his flinch when Aramis’ step stuttered crossing the threshold. He knew his brother meant no insult by it, that it was likely unconscious on Aramis’ part, but that did not lessen the sting of it. 

“Yes,” Aramis said as he came over to sit next to Porthos on the sofa. He had not missed Porthos’ subtle flinch when he had hesitated momentarily and sought to undo any damage he might have inadvertently done. He grimaced to himself at the deliberate space he could not help but put between them when he sat down but there was nothing to be done for it. As it was, being alone like this with the man was taxing his nerves.

“If you want me to go...” Porthos said softly, his voice trailing off.

“No,” Aramis said a tad too quickly. He saw Porthos flinch again and reached out to take his hand before he could pull away further still. Taking a breath, he tried again. “No, I do not wish you to go. Forgive me, brother. I do not mean to act so skittish.”

“‘Tis no fault of yours and I will not hear you apologize for it,” Porthos said though he gripped Aramis’ hand back firmly. “I just...”

“Just?”

“Is this how it will be from now on? You hesitating to be alone in a room with me? I got no right to complain. I know I don’t. I just... I never thought it would come to this. Not between us.” 

The raw pain in Porthos’ voice tore at Aramis and he inched the smallest bit closer. “No,” he said firmly. “It will not always be this way. Just as I refused to give d’Artagnan up without a fight, I will not do so with you either. I... I have loved you forever, Porthos. I still love you, even if my actions make you think otherwise.”

“Your actions,” Porthos said, shaking his head, “they do not make me think otherwise. In truth, your actions speak of a degree of patience and forgiveness that most men would never find possible. I know what I did. I remember every horrible second of it like it was yesterday. How you can forgive me that...”

“I love you,” Aramis shrugged. To him, that was all that mattered. His love for the man would not let him do anything else. Yes, his nerves were still somewhat fragile, but he would get past this. He just needed a bit more time.

Porthos felt his heart give a lurch at Aramis’ words. To hear him say that, to hear him say that and mean it, was more than he ever hoped to have again. Slowly, he lift his hand to his lips and laid a soft kiss to his knuckles. He felt as well as heard Aramis suck in a breath but he did not pull away so Porthos kissed his hand again before lowering it back down once more.

“I...” Aramis trailed off, unsure what to say. It was not so much that Porthos had kissed his hand, it was what he had felt when he had done so. Or rather, what he had not felt. For the one thing he had not felt was fear. Porthos unexpected gesture had not increased his anxiety, it had not made him want to pull away, and that was as surprising as the kiss itself had been.

“Was that alright?” Porthos asked when Aramis failed to say anything more. “Did I go too far?”

“No,” Aramis said quickly. “No, that was... that was fine. I... Thank you.”

“I should be the one thanking you,” Porthos countered. “I should have asked first. I did not mean to be so bold.”

“Don’t. Please. You did not wrong. I did not take offense. I... I... I liked it.”

“Oh,” Porthos said stunned. He felt hope stir within him. The first true hope he’d had since this nightmare began. It was not everything he wanted, but it was a start. That was enough for now.

Upstairs, Athos moved onto the vacated bed slowly. He knew d’Artagnan could not handle any further stress and approached him with care. He wanted nothing more than to scoop the younger man into his arms and hold him, letting him know with his body that he would never again allow such a thing to happen to him. He knew, though, that he could not. Not yet. Their Whelp was hanging onto his calm by his fingernails as it was.

“Athos?” D’Artagnan whispered as he watched his lover slowly move nearer to him.

“I am here,” Athos said as he lay down on his side facing him. He reached out and took his hand then, gripping it tightly.

“Please,” d’Artagnan begged, his voice breaking on the word.

“Anything,” Athos told him at once. The uncertainty in d’Artagnan’s voice tore at him and he ached anew to pull him close.

“Can you... can you hold me?” 

Athos didn’t reply with words. Instead, he slid closer and gently pulled his lover against him. He felt a shudder run through him and tightened his arms around him. He swore to himself right then that he was going to find the men responsible for this and he was going to hurt them very, very badly.

The feel of Athos’ strong arms around him made d’Artagnan want to keen and he pressed his face into Athos’ chest as he gripped onto his shirt. He inhaled deeply, letting the scent of his lover calm him as it always did. Athos was here and with him. He was safe. Finally, he was safe again.

“Shh. It is alright,” Athos whispered into his ear. “I have you. They are gone and they will never get their hands on you again. I swear it.”

“Thought I would never see you again,” d’Artagnan whispered back, voicing the thing that had hurt his heart the most. “Not any of you. I... I would have begged them if I thought it would have made any difference. Anything. Anything to be able to get back to you.”

“Oh love,” Athos said as tears stung his eyes. The thought of anyone making their proud boy beg was enraging. Oh the things he was going to do to these men when he found them!

“Would have been worth it for this alone.”

“I was scared, too,” Athos admitted, hoping the admission would help ease some of the self-recriminations he knew would come once the lad was feeling more himself. “I nearly went out of my mind. If not for Aramis, I likely would have. You would have been so proud of him. I have not seen him so strong since... well, since probably before the ruins.”

“I’m glad he was there for you,” d’Artagnan said, Athos’ words easing him more than he thought possible. To know his brothers had been there for each other, especially Athos, was almost as much of a relief as being home again.

&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M

Athos didn’t come back downstairs until d’Artagnan had fallen asleep. Even then, he had been loathe to leave him but his brothers deserved to know he was feeling somewhat steadier and he himself could use a drink. He admonished himself at that. Drinking would solve none of their problems. In fact, it would only add to them and worry Aramis to boot.

“How is he?” Aramis asked as Athos entered the kitchen. They had relocated there from the sitting room so Aramis could make dinner. Porthos had tried to get him to at least allow him to help but he had steadfastly refused and Porthos had wisely not pushed the matter.

“Sleeping,” Athos said as he joined Porthos at the table. He arched an eyebrow in silent question and Porthos shook his head minutely in reply. “Albeit somewhat restlessly.”

“Should he be alone?” Aramis asked worriedly.

“I doubt my presence was helping to be truthful. Yours might, but he is resting well enough for now,” Athos replied.

Aramis was about to reply when a knock at the door interrupted him. The three men looked at each other before Porthos stood to answer it. He hesitated at the threshold and picked up his musket before opening the door, knowing better than to be caught off guard. When he saw who had come to call, he stepped back and held the door to allow them in.

“How is he?” Constance asked as soon as she and Treville were inside.

“Sleeping,” Athos said again as he stood to greet their visitors. 

“Can I see him?” She asked hopefully.

“Of course,” Aramis replied. “I’ll show you up.” 

“I do believe I remember the way,” Constance teased but she did not argue, understanding the gesture was as much for the sake of her husband as for Aramis’ own peace of mind. They might consider her family but d’Artagnan had been missing for days. Aramis was not likely to trust anyone other than his brothers with him at the moment.

“He does realize that was unnecessary I hope,” Treville sighed as he sat down at the table after the pair had disappeared up the stairs.

“Yes,” Athos replied with a chuckle, “and no. Besides, it was as much for his own sake as propriety’s anyway.”

“A bit protective?”

“Ain’t like he doesn’t have reason to be,” Porthos defended.

“I know,” Treville replied. “The men told me the shape the lad was in. Does he need anything? I can send for a physician.”

“Thank you, Sir, but no,” Athos said. “Aramis has seen to his injuries. He would have sent for one himself had they been beyond his ability. He just needs rest and time.”

“I have a list of volunteers for you to choose from when you are ready to pursue those responsible.”

Athos started to reply then paused. While they would be helpful, he was hesitant to involve his fellow Musketeers. They would want to see these men brought to justice, tried for their crimes against one of their own. Athos on the other hand had no intention of bringing them in alive.

“That will not be necessary, Sir,” he finally replied.

“Very well,” Treville said, not entirely surprised. “Just don’t do anything I can’t get you out of, alright?”

“They’re in the Court,” Porthos said with a shrug. “Nobody there will raise a fuss. Especially if these are the men responsible for the disappearances.”

They talked of other things after that as they waited for Constance and Aramis to rejoin them. None of them were surprised to see Aramis holding onto her arm as she dabbed at her eyes as she came down the stairs. As soon as she was back down, she went straight to her husband barely stopping from throwing herself into his arms.

“He will be alright,” Treville soothed as he held her. “Boys, if you’ll excuse us I should get her home.”

“Of course,” Athos said as he rose to see them to the door.

“Take what time you need,” he told them as they left. He was getting somewhat tired of having to say those words to them, not that it was their fault. Fate however seemed to have it in for the lot of them.

Aramis tried to convince Athos to stay with d’Artagnan that night, but he wouldn’t hear of it, insisting that he would find Aramis’ presence more of a comfort. He started to backtrack when he realized that Aramis himself might not be comfortable staying alone with d’Artagnan but the other man had quickly assured him that was not the case. After making him promise to tell them if he grew uncomfortable, Athos and Porthos had bid Aramis good night and retired, confident that d’Artagnan was in the best possible hands.

“You sure about this, Athos?” Porthos had asked as they prepared for bed. “I’m sure there’s enough room for both of you with him.”

“I don’t want to crowd him and hurt his ribs anymore than they already are,” Athos replied. “Besides, I meant what I said. Aramis’ presence will be the balm he needs tonight.”

“That boy loves you with all his heart.”

“I know. But he needs his Little One more than he does me right now. And even if he did not, he needs Aramis more. Things between them were still shaky. To have him close will ease his mind of at least part of his worry.”

“Yeah,” Porthos agreed.

&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M

The next day d’Artagnan insisted on going down to breakfast, though he had to lean on Aramis rather heavily to do so. Aramis had tried to instill him on the sofa in the sitting room but d’Artagnan had not taken to the thought of being there alone well so Aramis had taken him into the kitchen with him instead. 

“Athos said you helped him,” d’Artagnan commented as he watched Aramis go about preparing their morning meal.

“How so?” Aramis asked over his shoulder.

“Just that you were there for him. And that he had no seen you so strong in... a very long time.”

“My brother needed me,” Aramis shrugged as if that was all there was to it. In truth, that was, even if d’Artagnan’s words filled him with an odd sense of hope. 

“I’m glad you could be there for each other. It was one of the things I despaired for the most. That and never seeing any of you again.”

Aramis carefully set aside the bowl he had been holding and turned to face his brother. The sincerity he saw on his face had him crossing the short distance to him in an instant. He pulled a chair up next to him and sat down, taking his hand in his and just holding it.

“It was the same for me,” he said softly. “For all of us really. Athos... Athos was so scared we would not find you in time. I tried to be there for him, to be strong for him.”

“You were,” d’Artagnan told him. “He said he did not know how he would have made it through without you. Thank you for that, for being there for him.”

“You never have to thank me for that, love.”

“I, uh, I’m sorry about what I said,” d’Artagnan said, looking down at their joined hands.

“Whatever do you mean?” Aramis asked, not understanding.

“I called you Little One,” he said softly, the apology in his voice clear. “I did not mean to do that. I would never...”

“Stop,” Aramis said firmly. “I refuse to listen to you apologize for needing me no matter what form that need takes.”

“I have no right...”

“You have every right,” Aramis insisted. “I said I was not letting you go and I meant it. You said you would not leave me, Master.”

“I won’t,” d’Artagnan choked, his hand tightening around Aramis’. “I could never. You mean so much to me. You, Little One, all of your selves. They all mean so much to me. That I hurt you, that I made you turn from me, the shame of that is like a living thing inside of me.”

“I never turned from you. Never. I needed time, yes, but that was all. You were still my brother, still more dear to me than my own heart. Nothing on this earth will ever make me turn from you, Master.”

When Athos and Porthos entered the kitchen they were surprised to find d’Artagnan sitting at the table watching Aramis work. Porthos squeezed the lad’s shoulder gently then sat down while Athos bent down to give him a kiss. 

In the harsh light of morning, Athos could see every one of d’Artagnan’s injuries. Especially the stark burn encircling his neck from the the noose they had strung him up by. A sickening sense of deja vu passed through him as the image of his former wife superimposed itself over that of the young man. 

“Athos?” D’Artagnan queried when his lover froze half way through the process of kissing him. His lover looked like he was going to be ill and he had no idea why.

“Sorry,” Athos managed. He pressed a fleeting kiss to d’Artagnan’s forehead, closing his eyes so he would not see his wife’s face then quickly stood.

“Brother?” Porthos asked when Athos sat down across the table from d’Artagnan rather than in the vacant chair closest to him. He had not missed the way his face had suddenly fallen but, like d’Artagnan, he had no idea as to the cause. 

“I’m fine,” Athos said to Porthos’ unspoken question. He could see the concern in his eyes and knew his words were less than reassuring but it was the best he could do for now. He remembered seeing the horrible red mark the previous night but in all the chaos of getting d’Artagnan home and the sheer relief of having him safely back, it had not truly registered. Now it stood out unable to be ignored, a stark reminder of one of the worst times of his entire life.

Porthos could tell that Athos was anything but fine. He knew the Whelp could as well. Neither of them pressed the issue, though. He had seen Aramis stiffen out of the corner of his eye and knew that he was aware of the change in Athos as well. He only hoped he would have more success in ferreting out whatever the problem was. 

Breakfast was a somewhat strained affair with Aramis and Porthos doing their best to behave as normal as possible. Both men were growing more and more worried about Athos and, in turn, d’Artagnan. When Athos finally excused himself from the table, Aramis reached out and took d’Artagnan’s hand.

“It will be alright,” he told him.

“Is he angry with me?” D’Artagnan asked, his voice suddenly much smaller than it had been earlier.

“Not at all,” Aramis assured him. “I do not know what has him so troubled but it is none of your doing.”

“He’s right,” Porthos added before d’Artagnan could argue. “Whatever it is, it’s not your fault.”

D’Artagnan lasted through breakfast before his stamina began to wane. Aramis insisted he lie down to rest is ribs and Porthos helped him back upstairs leaving Aramis and Athos alone in the sitting room. Taking Athos’ hand, Aramis drew him over to the sofa and pressed him down than sat beside him. Though there was more than enough room, they sat with their shoulders brushing, both taking comfort in the closeness of the other.

“Whatever it is, you can tell me,” Aramis said after a moment.

“I...” Athos began then fell silent. His thoughts were all awhirl as memories of both his lover and his wife vied for dominance. He never wanted to associate the vibrant young man with that hellish shrew but he could not stop himself now.

“Athos, please,” Aramis said softly, squeezing his hand tightly. “Tell me what’s going on. You were fine until you went to greet d’Artagnan. Then... then something happened. Please, love, I can’t help you if I don’t know what is wrong in the first place.”

“Do you think it will scar?” Athos asked seemingly out of nowhere, his mind’s eye unable to see anything besides the ugly burn around his lover’s throat.

“Oh,” Aramis breathed, suddenly understanding. “I... That is... It is always tricky with burns. Even the smallest tend to leave their trace behind. Ropes, they are somewhat notorious for leaving behind tangible reminders. I had not realized what all that might bring to mind for you.”

“Do not worry yourself over it,” Athos said listlessly then swallowed around the lump in his throat. “I’m sure it will fade.”

“Yes, of course,” Aramis said quickly. “Even if there is some permanent mark it will not be as prominent as it looks now. It should be barely noticeable once it heals fully.”

“You’re right,” Athos said with far more conviction than he felt. Even if the scar around his throat did heal, he would still know it had been there. He would still see it, in his mind if nowhere else. That, however, was his problem. 

“It is alright to be upset,” Aramis said, hoping to ease some of the hopelessness he saw in his eyes. “I know it was a shock and I know you are still reeling from what all he suffered through. Do not feel you have to hide your pain. Not from me.”

Upstairs, Porthos carefully maneuvered d’Artagnan back into bed. He could tell the lad was worried about Athos. In truth, he was a bit worried himself. Athos reaction to him at the table had been worlds apart from his reaction the night before. Something had put their brother off but he had no idea what it was.

“Are you sure he’s not mad at me?” D’Artagnan asked as Porthos drew the blanket over him.

“I’m sure, Whelp,” he replied. The look of worry on d’Artagnan’s face tugged at his heart and he found himself leaning forward before he realized what he was doing. Realizing what he was about to do, he stopped and looked into the younger man’s eyes. “Can I?”

“You don’t have to ask,” d’Artagnan said. “You never have to ask, Porthos.”

“Yeah, I do,” Porthos replied. “After... after everything I got no right...”

“You have every right,” d’Artagnan told him as firmly as he could. “You are still my brother, still my lover. And you never have to ask permission for my affection.”

Licking his lips, Porthos nodded and slowly leaned in the rest of the way to press a soft kiss to the other man’s lips. He felt d’Artagnan sigh against his mouth and pressed against him a bit harder before pulling back. The combination of relief, desire and understanding he saw in d’Artagnan’s eyes made his own heart twist and he stroked the side of his face softly. 

“Get some rest, Whelp,” he said as he stood to leave. “We’ll be right downstairs when you get up.”

When Porthos re-entered the sitting room, he was surprised to find Aramis and Athos pressed tightly together on the sofa, Aramis’ arm around the man as if consoling him. Recalling his reaction in the kitchen, he wondered if this had anything to do with it. 

Not wanting to crowd Aramis by sitting on the sofa with them, he pulled the chair over close to Athos and sat down. “You alright, brother?” 

Athos opened his mouth to say yes then closed it. “Not really,” he finally replied. 

“Whatever it is, you know we’ll help you in any way we can,” Porthos said as he reached out and took Athos’ free hand in his.

“It... I am being foolish,” Athos said. He glanced at his brothers and saw the determined set of their faces. Sighing, he voiced the thing that was eating at him the most. “It is the scar around his neck. It... for a moment when I first saw it, all I could see was... was _her_.”

“Oh,” Porthos said, taken aback. He recalled the vivid mark around the lad’s throat with a grimace. He knew the mark would fade soon enough but he also knew it would likely leave a scar behind. He recalled the sight of the hangman’s scar that Milady was so careful to keep hidden and blanched. No wonder his brother had looked sick when he had seen the same mark around young d’Artagnan’s neck. 

“I do not mean to seem petty,” Athos said guiltily. “Or ungrateful. I know how close we came to losing him. The sight of him hanging there, bound and helpless as he slowly suffocated will haunt my dreams for the rest of my days. But I cannot help but see her now. I even smell that damnable jasmine.”

“Easy, brother,” Porthos said. He could tell that Athos was growing distraught and they needed to calm him down. There was no way to know how long d’Artagnan would sleep for. It would not do the lad good to come down and find Athos in such a state.

“You are being neither petty nor ungrateful,” Aramis said. “The wounds of the past they do not always heal fully. Some are apt to break open and bleed anew as yours have done. They will heal again. I promise you, love.”

“And what do I do in the interim while I am waiting for time to do its work once more?” Athos asked.

“You remind yourself that she is gone. That this is d’Artagnan, not Milady, and he needs you. You are the love of his life, Athos. Do now allow your memories of her to destroy the life you have built with him.”

“I will try though I may need your help. Those memories of her are what drove me to the bottle in the first place. I have no wish to find myself there again. You have all worked too long and hard to pull me out of it for me to allow her to drag me back down.”

“We will help you in any way you need,” Aramis assured him. “Both of you.”

“Your damn wife ain’t takin’ you from us and she ain’t causin’ you to drown yourself in a wine bottle again either,” Porthos said, his tone almost angry. They didn’t get the Whelp back only to lose Athos because of fucking memories of all things. Especially memories of a thrice-damned whore who more than deserved the noose she had gotten.

They let the subject drop after that, wanting to get their emotions back under control before d’Artagnan awoke. He still had not spoken of what all had been done to him or, more importantly, who these men were and where they could be found. They needed to know before they managed to flee Paris. Athos would have no problem pursuing them to the ends of the earth and back but he would rather get it over and done with. For that to happen they needed to talk to d’Artagnan.

Aramis waited a couple of hours, wanting the lad to get all the rest he could, before going up to check on him. He needed to recheck his wounds, especially the burn on his side, and knew there was no way to do so without waking him. Still, Athos was right in that they needed to talk to him if they were going to find these men. Plus, Aramis wanted to make sure there were no minor wounds he had missed treating.

Aramis had no more than opened the door before d’Artagnan’s eyes flew open. He saw the momentary panic and rushed to assure him. “It is only me,” he whispered as he slowly approached the bed. “I did not mean to wake you. I only wanted to look in on you.”

“It’s alright,” d’Artagnan said, flushing in embarrassment over his reaction. He was home. He knew that yet he still nearly jumped out of his skin at every errant sound. 

“How are you feeling?” Aramis asked as he sat down beside him.

“Um better, I think. Still feel like I could sleep for a week, though.”

“Your body is healing. That takes a great deal of energy and you are still weak from your ordeal.”

“Still weak,” d’Artagnan repeated chuckling darkly. He certainly felt weak. Weak and useless.

“That is not what I meant,” Aramis said gently. “You think we somehow see weakness in you because of your injuries when the opposite is true. That you endured so much and survived to return to us... We feel blessed beyond measure at your strength, love.”

“Then why could Athos barely bring himself to look at me this morning?” 

Aramis sighed. He really didn’t want to have this conversation with d’Artagnan. Not now. Not ever really but certainly not now. “Believe me when I say it is not anything you have done,” he offered. “I will explain it but I ask that you wait for now. I need to check how you are healing and then we need to ask you some questions. The hour grows late if we are to find these men.”

“You wish to pursue them?” D’Artagnan asked as if the thought had not even occurred to him.

“Of course we do,” Aramis said, taken aback. “Even if these are not the men responsible for the disappearances in the Court, they hurt you. That is reason enough to hunt them down. I am quite sure Athos has some very specific plans in mind once he gets his hands on them.”

“He shouldn’t,” d’Artagnan shook his head. “It is not worth the risk.”

“Not worth the risk?” Aramis echoed, aghast. “You are more than worth the risk. You are worth everything. Do you not think I feel the same? I want to rend them limb from limb for what they have done to you.”

“No,” d’Artagnan said quickly. “No, I don’t want you anywhere near these men, Little One.”

Aramis froze unsure what to say. It warmed him that the young man was so concerned for him even after all he had been through. Yet, it also worried him. Would he ever be seen as whole again by this man? Or would he forever seek to shelter him now?

“What is it? What did I say?” D’Artagnan asked. He had not missed the way Aramis’ face fell at his words.

“Nothing,” Aramis said forcing a smile.

“Do not lie. Not to me. Tell me what I said that upset you.”

“It did not upset me per se,” Aramis tried to explain. “But I must wonder if I will ever be a man, whole and sound, in your eyes again.”

“Of course you will,” d’Artagnan said. He sat up and took Aramis’ hand, gripping it tightly. “You already are. I just... I don’t want them to get their hands on you. If anything were to happen to you it would end me as surly as it would Athos and Porthos.”

“Do you not know that we feel the same? That we nearly went mad with worry when you were missing?”

“I know,” d’Artagnan said though his voice held little conviction.

“For whatever reason, you do not seem to. I do not know what we have done to make you doubt us so but it is the truth. You are precious to us, d’Artagnan. As you have always been. Now come, let me check your wounds and then we can join the others downstairs.”

It took a little while for Aramis wanted to make sure he had seen to all of d’Artagnan’s myriad injuries. D’Artagnan assured him he had not missed anything and that the wound along his side was probably the worst of it. Aramis didn’t like the dark bruising that marred his lower back and knew he would likely be pissing blood for a few days to come but there was little to be done for it other than keep a watchful eye. Once the burn was redressed, he helped d’Artagnan from the bed and they carefully made their way back downstairs to join the others.

As soon as they reached the foot of the stairs, Athos and Porthos were waiting. Porthos took d’Artagnan by the arm and all but carried him to the sofa. He sat down then pulled the surprised man into his lap gently but firmly. Athos only hesitated a moment before sitting down on the side left vacant. He thought about taking the chair so he could sit facing them but decided not to. Aramis was going to have to do the questioning here lest he lose what tenuous control he still held on his emotions. For that, Aramis needed to sit where he could see d’Artagnan to know when to press on and when to pull back.

“Are you sure you’re up to this?” Athos asked. He sat half-turned toward him so he could see as much of d’Artagnan’s face as possible. He could see the wariness there even with Porthos’ arms securely around him and now had to wonder if part of it was not due to his earlier reaction. He had not meant to do that, had not meant to make his lover worry on top of everything else he had endured, but he had not been able to help himself.

“I can do it,” d’Artagnan replied. He reached for his brother’s hand then, needing a tangible connection with both of them. He felt Porthos tighten his grip around him then a second later Athos grasped his hand and squeezed as well. To feel them holding on to him like this, innocent though it was, eased him and gave him the strength he needed to see this through.

“Alright, but tell us if it becomes too much. We know this will be difficult but we need your help if we are to find these men.”

“Ask what you will. I do have a request, though.”

“What is it?” Athos asked.

“I do not want Aramis going with you in pursuit of them,” he said flatly. He saw Aramis flinch and met his eyes. “It is not a lack of faith in you or your abilities. It is my own selfish refusal to see you anywhere near these fiends. I would rather they walk free than take a chance on you falling into their hands.”

“D’Artagnan,” Aramis sighed, closing his eyes and looking away. “And when our next mission sends us after similar miscreants? Will you demand I stay safely at home then as well?”

“No,” d’Artagnan told him though the reluctance in his words was plain. “I will not like it but I will not deny you your right to do your duty nor to live your life as you see fit. I only ask of your indulgence now. I... I do not know if I could weather another storm just now.”

“Of course, love,” Aramis said. “I will not make your worry. Not after everything you have been through.”

“Thank you,” d’Artagnan said. “Now what is it you wish to know?”

Aramis walked him back through his ordeal, starting with his taking in the tavern. D’Artagnan identified Gaspar as his abductor, describing him to his brothers. They had no doubt they would be able to recognize him both from their brief meeting and d’Artagnan’s description. They had to stop several times as d’Artagnan told them of the abuse he had endured. He flushed hotly when he told them of Athos’ ring being pried from his hand and the obscene taunts Gaspar had made about his fictitious wife. He felt his blood boil anew at the thought of Gaspar inflicting such atrocities on Athos. 

“He’ll never get the chance, Whelp,” Porthos said, squeezing his hand hard. “I won’t let him.”

“I know. I do. It’s just the thought of that animal putting his hands on Athos...”

“Easy, love,” Aramis soothed. “Athos is safe. You have nothing to fear.”

“I wanted to... to yell at them, to tell them to stay away from him but I couldn’t risk it. I was afraid I’d slip and say his name and then they’d know. But to hear him talk of... of using Athos, of...”

“Enough. Enough, d’Artagnan,” Aramis said firmly. The young man’s words had made his stomach turn, even knowing that the danger was not real. He could only imagine how incensed they made d’Artagnan at the time. 

It took a bit longer but they managed to get the full story from d’Artagnan including Gaspar’s part in the kidnappings from the Court. Regretfully, if what d’Artagnan said was true then there was nothing they could do for those that had been taken as they had long been sold off to the Spanish as slaves. The best they could do now was to find Gaspar and his cohorts and put an end to this once and for all.

“Be careful,” d’Artagnan said as he stood in the kitchen to see the other two off. They had promised to send word to Treville of their plans just in case something went awry. He had started to argue about taking some of their fellow Musketeers with them but Athos had refused saying only that he did not think it the best of ideas. Understanding his meaning, he reluctantly let the matter drop.

Once they were gone, Aramis bolted the back door then shooed him back into the sitting room. He insisted that he lay down on the small sofa and rest and pulled the chair up as close to him as he could get it. “I know you are worried,” Aramis said after a short silence. “But they are together and they know how dangerous these men are. Porthos will not allow any harm to come to Athos, I promise.”

“Not just worried about Athos,” d’Artagnan said softly. He and Porthos did not often show their feelings openly, both preferring to express their caring in other ways. Just because they did not often show it did not mean that it was not there, though and he was equally worried for Porthos.

“I know,” Aramis said, taking his hand. “You worry for all of us. That is what brothers do. That worry does not stop no matter if we are at odds or not. I never once stopped worrying for the lot of you even if I did a rather poor job of showing it.”

“You always showed it. Even when we were least deserving of it, you did not withhold your care. That is one of the things that made it so much worse. For all we did to you, you still stood by our sides.”

“I will always stand by your side. Always. As will Porthos and Athos.”

“It did not seem that way this morning,” d’Artagnan countered, though there was no heat to his words. He could not help but keep remembering the way Athos had hesitated, as if he suddenly did not want to kiss him. The idea of the man having to force himself to do so made him sick. He could understand the man’s disappointment in him but he had not thought it so great as to...

“Stop,” Aramis said softly, jarring him from the downward spiral his thoughts had become. “Athos loves you with all his heart. Nothing will ever change that. Do not allow doubt to eat away at the bond between you.”

“Then what was this morning all about?” D’Artagnan asked. He was sure Aramis knew yet the longer he avoided telling him the worse he imagined it to be.

“Very well,” Aramis said. “I will explain, but you must listen to the whole of it.” He waited for d’Artagnan to nod his agreement before continuing. “The... mark... around your neck. In all the chaos of the night before he had not noticed it. When he saw it this morning it... well, it reminded him of something.”

“Milady,” d’Artagnan said flatly, his hand going to the mark around his throat without thought. “I made him think of her.”

“The mark around your neck made him think of her, not you,” Aramis corrected. “A mark, I might add, that is fading as we speak. In a few days time it will be but the faintest of reminders.”

“As if Athos needs more than that to be reminded of that hellion.” 

“Stop it,” Aramis admonished gently. “He did not mean to react the way he did. It caught him unawares. This entire situation has been an ordeal for Athos as well as you. He did not mean to give offense.”

“Give offense?” D’Artagnan cried. “He did not give offense. I... I am the one that has given offense. I...”

“You were very nearly hanged. That is in no way giving offense. Athos will get past this but he may need us to be patient with him for a little while. Can you do that, d’Artagnan?”

“Of course I can,” he said at once. “I know how much her memory pains him. I just hate that I have given him cause to think of her. You said it will fade. Are you certain?”

“Yes,” Aramis replied. “Though it will not entirely disappear. I wish there was some magical balm I could use to make it go away but there is none. It will fade but there will always be a mark.”

“Perhaps that is only fitting,” d’Artagnan said as he settled down into the sofa once more. For just being up he suddenly felt tired all over again. 

“What is?”

“That I bear a mark on my body to show the mark on my soul.”

“There is no mark on your soul,” Aramis said firmly. “Why would you even think such a thing?”

“After everything I did to you, how could there not be?”

“No,” Aramis shook his head. “It isn’t like that. And what you did to me, as you put it, was not of your own free will. You were being influenced. You cannot be held to blame for that.”

“Perhaps we should be. Perhaps that is part of the problem.”

“I don’t understand.”

“These acts were perpetrated by us, yet since we were being influenced no one can be held accountable. Not only that, but you are forced to live with your very attackers.”

“No,” Aramis said again. “First of all, I am not being forced to live here. I have a place I can go should I feel the need and I do not mean Saint Severin. Second, I refuse to hold you accountable for that which was outside of your control. Is there someone to blame? Yes. This entity, whatever it is. It is to blame and if it still exists we will find a way to destroy it. But I will not blame my brothers for they did no wrong.”

“I do not know that I agree with that but I will not argue with you. But do you truly think it might have been destroyed in the explosion?”

“I don’t know. I can only hope and pray that it is so.”

&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M

Athos was on a mission. D’Artagnan had given them enough information both about the men they were looking for and where he had been held that tracking them should not be difficult. He could feel Porthos’ unease growing as they neared the Court and it only added to the rage simmering inside of him.

“Athos, stop,” Porthos said softly when they had reached the outer edges of the Court.

“What?” Athos snarled, angry at the delay.

“We cannot go in there kicking down doors,” Porthos said gently. “These people are innocent.”

“Innocent? They harbored these men. Even suspecting what they were doing, they harbored them,” Athos spat back. As far as he was concerned they were equally guilty and if they did not want to find themselves arrested they would stay out of his way.

“They were protecting their families,” Porthos reminded him, d’Artagnan’s earlier words ringing through his head. “If they talked, it would be their loved ones shipped off to Spain. These are people with no money, no power. People the rest of France doesn’t even bother to acknowledge. What else were they supposed to do?”

“They could have come to us,” Athos replied though some of the heat had left his words.

“They were afraid. What if we had not come, did not act? They have no trust of those in authority, even us.”

“Very well, brother. I will let you lead here.”

“I’m not saying you can’t kill the bastard. I’ll gladly stand back and watch you take him apart an inch at a time. But let’s not add any more innocents to the list of people harmed because of these men.”

Somewhat calmer now, Athos and Porthos worked their way into the outskirts of the Court as carefully as they could. It would not do for them to be seen and the alarm raised. That would only send their quarry running. A few minutes in, Porthos nudged Athos and pointed up. When he looked, he saw two men standing on a balcony above them. He paused for a moment, waiting for the usual pounding to start as their presence was telegraphed through the Court but the pounding never came. Lifting a quizzical eyebrow to Porthos, the man leaned in close.

“They won’t give us away” he whispered. “As long as we don’t run into any of Gaspar’s men, no one here will give us away. They want to see these men pay as badly as we do.”

“Good,” Athos replied. He nodded to the two sentries then he and Porthos were moving again. When they reached the edges of the little courtyard where they had found d’Artagnan hanging, Athos froze. Suddenly, all he could see was his brother struggling to breath as the life was choked from him. A moment later, Porthos’ big hand settled on his shoulder making him start and the sickening image vanished.

“Brother?”

“I’m alright,” Athos said, giving Porthos a small, grateful smile. “Which way from here?”

“Not sure,” Porthos said. “I know we’re close, though. Haven’t seen a sign of anyone for the last five minutes. I say we wait here for a just a bit. See if anyone comes along that might know where to find this animal.”

They didn’t have to wait long. Athos held his breath as he recognized one of the men from the tavern. He moved back into the shadows slightly, not wanting the other man to get a good look at him. They were so close. That last thing they needed was to spook the bastard. 

When he started to move off down the street, Athos and Porthos followed. He was leading them deeper into the Court and they could feel eyes watching them. Just as before, no one made a sound allowing the two Musketeers to track their quarry undetected. When the man turned down an alleyway, Porthos hesitated. There was only one way out and he wasn’t sure if the man was about to lead them to Gaspar or into a trap. Either way, they needed to be ready for it.

“Gaspar!” Laurent called loudly as he strode into the small square. Word had gotten around that the Musketeer had lived. He knew he should have slit his throat rather than leaving him to hang. It had been pointless and a risk that was going to come back around to bite them on the ass.

“Quit your yelling,” Gaspar said as he stepped out of the doorway of a ramshackle building. 

“That damn Musketeer lived,” Laurent snapped. He made it two strides toward Gaspar before the sound of movement behind him had him spinning around.

With their prey right before them, Athos could hold back no longer. With a terse nod to Porthos he stepped from the shadows. Porthos did likewise, the two of them effectively cutting off the men’s exit. Athos had a pistol in his right hand and his sword in his left. His eyes were locked on Gaspar, the other man completely unimportant. He knew Porthos would not allow him to escape and that was good enough for him. All he cared about was making the animal in front of him pay for every single mark he had put on his lover.

“You don’t belong here, Musketeers,” Gaspar sneered looking up toward the balconies for support. He found them surprisingly empty for the middle of the day and quickly turned his attention back to the man stalking toward him.

“Neither do you,” Athos replied. Just then he caught sight of the ring on Gaspar’s finger. It was the very ring he had given d’Artagnan. The ring this man had forced from his hand. If Athos had not been on the verge of seeing red that was all the impetus he needed. This man was not leaving here alive.

“Get out of here before the enforcers come and carry you out,” Gaspar bluffed. He had a feeling the enforcers weren’t going to be enforcing anything here. That was alright. Once he was finished dealing with these two he would make them regret it. He’d see how much they liked it when their women-folk were the next to turn up missing.

“In case you have failed to notice, no one is coming,” Athos said. He shoved his pistol back into his belt not needing it for the moment. “I don’t think they like your little operation, kidnapping people and selling them to the Spanish.”

“So what? You come to arrest me? You really think anyone’s gonna lock me up for getting rid of some of this trash?”

“No,” Athos said conversationally. “But then again, I’m not here to arrest you. I’m here to kill you.”

A cry and a thud off to his right told Athos that Porthos had taken care of the other man. That just left Gaspar. While he knew for a fact that there were others involved, he did not think they would cause any more trouble, not by the time he was done with Gaspar.

“That the boy’s ring on his hand?” Porthos asked wiping off his sword as he came up beside Athos.

“Yes,” Athos replied succinctly.

Their words caused Gaspar to glance down at his hand. He had planned to sell the little bastard’s ring but had decided to keep it at the last minute. He had fancied the look on his woman’s face when she saw him wearing it when he got around to paying her a visit. He realized now what a mistake that was. It was indisputable proof that he had been in on the Musketeer’s kidnapping.

“You want it back? Fine,” Gaspar said as he began trying to wrench the ring from his finger.

“Porthos,” Athos said effecting a bored air.

Porthos grinned widely and moved across the small square to grab Gaspar. He twisted one arm up behind his back and grabbed the other by the wrist. Walking the man forward, he slammed his ringed hand against the very tree they had strung d’Artagnan up in then grinned over his shoulder at Athos.

Athos could feel the fear coming off Gaspar in waves as he slowly walked toward the pair. He knew he was drawing it out and ratcheting up the man’s fear but he didn’t care. This man had not cared how afraid d’Artagnan was when he took a red-hot iron to him. He had not cared how afraid his lover was when he had strung him up and left him for dead.

“That your ring?” Porthos asked once Athos was beside them.

Athos made a show of leaning in close and inspecting the ring. “Yes indeed. The man you took this ring from was my lover. I intend to take it back for him.” With that, Athos drew his dagger from behind his back. He saw Gaspar start to struggle but Porthos only tightened his grip as he held his hand flat against the tree. After a quick nod to Porthos, Athos grabbed his finger and brought his dagger down in a swift arc. A second later, Athos stepped back, Gaspar’s finger still in his hand while the man howled and thrashed in Porthos’ grip.

“There’s a spare bandana on my belt,” Porthos said as he tried not to get too much of Gaspar’s blood on him while he held the man.

“Thank you, brother,” Athos said. He stepped up to Porthos and slipped the proffered bandana from his belt. He wrapped the ring bedecked finger in it then carefully placed it inside his pocket. 

“You good?” Porthos asked.

“At your leisure,” Athos nodded.

Porthos grinned again and released Gaspar. He took a step back and watched but Gaspar only sagged against the tree. Porthos didn’t know what the man was thinking but if the fool thought they were done with him he was sadly mistaken. 

“If I were you, I’d run,” Porthos said, barely holding back a chuckle. 

Gaspar looked at him as he clutched his bleeding hand to his chest then over to Athos. What he saw there had him paling even more and he lurched away from the tree and began staggering further down the dead-end street. He kept looking to the balconies above, looking for any sign of help, but there was no one to be seen. It was like the Court had suddenly become a ghost town with them the only living inhabitants.

Athos sheathed his dagger and sword as he watched the man stumble down the street before them. He pulled out the pistol he had put away earlier and took careful aim. Whispering d’Artagnan’s name, he pulled the trigger and watched in grim satisfaction as Gaspar went sprawling into the dirt. 

As they slowly walked toward their fallen prey, both men winced at his high pitched cries. He was sitting in the middle of the street clutching his bleeding leg with his still bleeding hand. He looked up at them when they neared, tears running down his face. Athos had never been more tempted to kick someone in his life.

“Mercy,” Gaspar begged. “Please, I beg of you. Mercy.”

“Mercy?” Athos questioned as he crouched down next to Gaspar. “Did you show mercy to d’Artagnan? Then again, d’Artagnan was man enough not to beg the likes of you. He fought you until the end. A sniveling coward like you could not begin to fathom such strength. But fine, I will show mercy as it were.”

Drawing his dagger once again, Athos rammed it into Gaspar’s stomach to the hilt. He felt more than heard the man gasp and he quickly slashed it to the side and up ensuring the wound was indeed fatal. “There is your mercy,” Athos spat as he wiped his blade on the man’s shirt and stood. 

“Listen to me, all of you,” Athos said loudly as he slowly spun around in the street. “I know there are more of you. Leave the Court and all of Paris. Today. This will be your only warning. If but a single person goes missing we will come for you and we will not stop until we have run you to ground. The Court of Miracles is now under the protection of the King’s Musketeers.”

The walk home was a quick one. People seemed to sense an air of danger about the two men and quickly moved out of their path. Once home, Porthos bolted the door as Athos continued on to the sitting room to where Aramis and d’Artagnan sat. 

Aramis quickly moved out of the chair he had pulled over to the couch and let Athos sit down. Wanting to give the pair some privacy, he walked back into the kitchen to find Porthos slipping out of his leathers. He started to move toward him but Porthos held up a hand.

“Got a bit of blood on me,” he said. 

“Are you hurt?” Aramis asked anxiously.

“No. It’s all Gaspar’s. Me and Athos didn’t get a scratch on us.” He started to carry his doublet over to the sink but Aramis came and took it from him. 

“I am much more adept at getting out blood than you, mon cher.” He pressed Porthos down into a chair and began working on getting as much of the blood out as possible. “So he is dead I take it?”

“Very,” Porthos replied. He started to elaborate when a shriek from the other room froze both of them. Aramis turned toward the sitting room but Porthos grabbed his arm stopping him. “It’s okay. It’s just the finger.”

“The what?” Aramis asked stunned.

“The finger,” Porthos repeated with a bit of a grimace. Athos had been a good deal more barbaric than Porthos was accustomed to seeing the man. Not that he blamed him in the slightest, but it was a bit of a surprise. “He was wearing the Whelp’s ring. Athos took it back.”

“And his finger with it. I see,” said Aramis. He took a deep breath, telling himself that this man deserved everything he had gotten and more for his heinous crimes. “What else happened?”

“After the finger? I let him go and told him to run. He didn’t get very far before Athos shot him in the leg.”

“Athos shot him in the leg?” Aramis asked. He sat down beside Porthos then, unsure how much more there was to this tale and growing more and more worried for his lover.

“Yeah. It, uh, it didn’t last long after that. He started begging and Athos shoved his dagger in his guts. We left him bleeding out in the street. Athos, though, he made sure everyone heard that if the rest of them didn’t leave we’d be coming for them.”

“And Athos? He is... alright?” Aramis asked, worry gnawing at him.

“Yeah, love. He’s fine. Still a bit strung out but he’s okay.”

“Good. That’s good. It’s just... I’ve never known him to be so...”

“It was the Whelp,” Porthos shrugged. “Only thing that would have been worse for him would have been for it to be you they hurt.”

Out in the sitting room, d’Artagnan’s eyes kept going back and forth between Athos’ face and the severed finger lying in the middle of one of Porthos’ bandanas. He made a mental note to make sure they burned that bandana, never wanting to see it on Porthos again. He could not believe that his lover had done this, that not only had he gotten his ring back but that he had cut Gaspar’s finger off to do so. It was not something he would have ever attributed to his calm, somewhat calculating brother. 

“He hurt you,” Athos said by way of explanation when d’Artagnan continued to look back and forth between him and his rather grim offering. “What else was I supposed to do?”

“Would he not take it off?” D’Artagnan finally asked.

“I never gave him the chance,” Athos replied honestly. “I never intended to bring him in, d’Artagnan. Surely you know that.”

“I... I had not really thought...”

“You did not think I would avenge you?” Athos asked carefully, though the idea appalled him. He would have died to avenge d’Artagnan. He would have thought his lover knew that. Then again, d’Artagnan was often unaware of his own worth, especially where they were concerned. Athos was going to have to work harder on that.

As the night wore on, d’Artagnan grew more and more pensive. He knew they would retire soon which meant Aramis, at the very least, going off to his own room. He didn’t want that, didn’t think he could stand it. He had been so sure near the end that he would never see any of his lovers again. Now that fate had been thwarted and he was home safe, the threat thoroughly dealt with, he could not bear the thought of any of them being away from him. Yet, at the same time, he knew he could not say anything. Aramis might have been okay sharing a bed with him for a few hours but he did not think him ready to spend the whole night that way. Especially not with all three of them.

“What is it?” Athos asked, unable to keep silent any longer. Sitting on the sofa as they were, with d’Artagnan leaning back against him, he could feel his tension mounting. He did not recall the lad growing this apprehensive the night before. Then again, d’Artagnan had still been in shock at the time. 

“‘Tis nothing,” he replied as he stared off into the fire. Athos had wanted to throw the finger and bandana into it to be rid of them but he had stopped him unable to stomach the smell of burning flesh. Porthos had taken the thing out back and buried it instead.

“You are not being entirely truthful, love,” Athos said carefully as he wrapped his arms around him a bit more securely while still being mindful of his injuries.

“I am,” d’Artagnan said, though his voice had a listlessness to it that none of them liked. “I am being foolish. ‘Tis nothing more than that.”

“Ah,” Aramis said as the cause of d’Artagnan’s worry suddenly became clear to him. He pulled the chair over close to the sofa, situating it between d’Artagnan and Porthos who held the younger man’s legs in his lap. “Do you truly think I will deny you?”

“I know you won’t,” d’Artagnan said. “That’s what makes it impossible to ask. You do not... you do not wish us close to you in such a manner. I will not ask you for something you have no wish to give.”

“What did I tell you, hm?” Aramis countered gently. “I never stopped loving you, d’Artagnan. Not any of you. If you wish me close tonight all you need do is say so.”

“Is that it, love? Is it Aramis you wish with you tonight? I understand,” Athos said then stopped. D’Artagnan had grown impossibly stiff in his arms.

“You misunderstand, Athos,” Aramis said, his eyes locked on their youngest. “It is not that he wishes me close, it is that he wishes all of us close. He does not want to ask, however, because he fears I will agree to something I do not wish simply to coddle him.”

“You don’t want us close like that,” d’Artagnan said. “Athos is okay but me and Porthos...”

“Did I not sleep beside you last night?” Aramis reminded him then shook his head. “Do you not understand it is the same for me? To have any of you out of my sight right now sets my teeth on edge. I know there is no cause for it, that the danger has passed, but that does not change my reaction. If you want us with you tonight, love, then I am glad for I do not think I could bear being so far from you right now.”

“Please,” d’Artagnan said as he reached a hand toward Aramis even as he gripped onto Athos’ arm with the other. When Aramis took it, he gripped him tightly. “Will you stay with me tonight? All of you, I mean?”

“Of course we will,” Aramis replied. “All you ever had to do was ask.”

&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M

It was a week before d’Artagnan was healed enough to return to the garrison. Athos had reported in to Treville that next day, letting him know that the kidnapping case was officially closed. Aramis had accompanied him, wanting to check on Serge and see how Francois was getting on. He felt horribly remiss in leaving the young man on his own all this time. Luckily, both Serge and Francois were doing fine and Francois assured him that he need not rush back for his sake, that he had plenty to do in the garrison just looking after Serge and training.

While Athos and Aramis had been out, a messenger had come. He had simply handed Porthos a wrapped parcel and left. Upon opening it, they found d’Artagnan’s doublet and shirt as well as most of the weapons he had thought lost. It was Flea’s way of saying thank you.

Now, all four of them were finally able to return together and it felt good to walk through the front gate side by side once more, something Aramis had despaired of ever doing again. They had no more than reached their customary table when they found themselves surrounded by their fellow Musketeers. The men raked their eyes up and down d’Artagnan as if needing to see for themselves that the lad was back among them. It eased something in all of them to know that their youngest was so well cared for outside of their ranks but none so much as d’Artagnan himself. He knew the men accepted him, respected him even, but such a blatant display of caring was different.

“Glad to have you back,” Sebastian said, clapping Athos on the shoulder. He had been one of the men to escort the four home the day they had recovered the lad. He remembered what kind of shape he had been in. To see him here now, with only the slightest of scars visible, was a relief. 

“Glad to be back,” Athos replied, taking a half step closer to d’Artagnan. He had not missed the way some of the men’s eyes lingered about his throat. It had been quite evident to the men that had been with there that someone had tried to hang the lad. Athos could only guess that word had spread among their ranks. The scar had faded a great deal, just as Aramis said it would, but it was still visible through the vee of his shirt and likely always would be. 

“Peace, Athos,” Sebastian said softly. “We just worry for him. You know none of us are going to turn our nose up at a scar or two. It’s like I said, we’re just glad to have him back with us.”

“Forgive us, my friend,” d’Artagnan said, speaking up for the first time. “It is no secret I have struggled with some of my wounds, this one more than any of the others. I know tis but a scar but...”

“Say no more, d’Artagnan. We understand.”

The Captain was more than happy to have them back and assigned them to patrol down near the Court, wanting to reinforce Athos’ message. The Court of Miracles was under their protection just as much as any other area of France and protect it they would. 

Luckily, their patrol was a quiet one. None of them relished the thought of getting into a skirmish with d’Artagnan only just back on duty. While his wounds were healed for the most part, he was still tender in places, especially the burn along his side. One hard blow there would likely send him to his knees and for that reason alone, Porthos stuck close by his side. 

After reporting back in to the Captain, the four headed home for the night. For once, they did not rush, taking their time as they unwound from the day. Back at home, Aramis hung up his doublet and weapons and went to wash up before preparing dinner. The other three washed up as well then sat around the kitchen table watching him work and frowning. For all of the explanations, all of their apologies, they still could not seem to make Aramis understand that this was not his lot. They had tried stepping in, tried helping him with the task, but everything they tried only ended up agitating him. Even Athos had not been able to get through to him and was forced to sit helplessly by and watch.

Once dinner was laid out, Athos tried to broach the subject again. “Aramis...”

“I would like to pay a visit to Michel tomorrow if one of you could accompany me,” he said, cutting Athos off. He had not missed the frowns that had passed between them and did not feel like discussing the matter. He would speak of it to Michel and seek his counsel but for now he wished them to simply let it be. 

Athos sucked in a breath and held it before slowly releasing it. “You do not need permission for this, Aramis,” Athos said carefully. “I’m sure the Captain can spare you for a few hours to attend Mass.”

“Oh. I did not... That is... Are you certain you wish me to go unaccompanied?” Aramis asked hesitantly.

“You are more than capable of defending yourself and I am sorry if our actions have made it seem otherwise. Your life is your own. We should never have tried to control it in the first place.”

“You were only looking out for me,” Aramis shrugged. “You meant no insult and none was taken.”

“I am more glad for that than you can know.”

“We all are,” Porthos said. “You mean the world to us, ‘Mis.”

“The sentiment is returned as ardently, I assure you.” Aramis blushed slightly when he realized how formal he sounded. He had a tendency to fall back on formality whenever he was nervous or unsure. That he felt that way now, with his brothers, made his heart twist but there was little to be done for it. At least it was not as bad as it was. He was healing, albeit slowly.

At the garrison the following morning, Treville assigned Athos, Porthos and d’Artagnan to patrol while Aramis went to Saint Severin. The Captain was anxious to know the state of his garrison, particularly the pile of ash where Aramis’ Laboratory once stood. 

They walked together as far as the crossroads then Aramis turned toward Saint Severin while the others continued on toward the Court. All four of them were noticeably tense about dividing up like this but they knew it was necessary. Even if the Captain had not wanted information from Michel, Aramis needed to regain his self-confidence and he would never do so with them cosseting him at every turn. Everyone, including Aramis himself, knew that he was more than capable of looking after himself. It was high time they started acting that way again.

Aramis kept his step light as he made his way to the church. Every step he took made his heart lighter, his spirit the tiniest bit more confident. Mass was just about to begin when he arrived and he slipped into on the back pews. It had been entirely too long since he had been to church and the thought of attending Mass again was comforting. 

There weren’t many in attendance, which suited Aramis fine as well. A crowded church would have likely been more than he could take. This, though, this was fine and he sat in the back and let the familiar litany wash over him, soothing and easing him as only it could. Once the Mass had ended, Aramis waited in the back of the church for Michel to speak to the few parishioners who had come out. Once everyone else had left, he rose and went to greet his friend.

“Hello Michel,” he said as he hugged the old priest to him tightly.

“Hello Aramis,” Michel smiled back. “It is good to see you out and about again. How have you been?”

“I’m well, Michel. I grow stronger every day. Thank you for your help at the garrison and with Serge. I know I should have been there.”

“Don’t be silly,” Michel told him. “Helping those in need is what a priest is meant for. I am glad your friend Serge is going to be alright.”

“As are we all,” Aramis agreed. “Treville sends his regards as well. He also wants to know the, well, status of things I suppose.”

“I have gone over every inch of your garrison, especially the area around where the shed was, several times. I can find no trace of any entity. Whatever was there, it is not there now.”

“Do you think it might have been destroyed in the explosion?” Aramis asked unable to keep the hope from his voice.

“That is hard to say,” Michel admitted. “I know we want it to be so but, in truth, we have no way to know. It could just as easily be that, once freed, the entity simply left in search of less wary victims.”

“Are you saying we may have unleashed this thing upon some other innocents?”

“No,” Michel said. “I am saying that, once it had freed itself, it might not have chosen to remain here. Evil is insidious and it is not stupid. This thing would have known we were aware of its presence and prepared to fight it. It could have simply wanted easier prey.”

“As much as I have no wish to ever encounter such a malevolent force again, I do hope that is not the case. At least we know what we are dealing with. Others would not be so lucky.”

“Perhaps not and we shall pray that does not come to pass but that is all we can do for now.”

They spent the next hour talking, bringing each other up to date. By the time they were done, Aramis had a thorough report to give to the Captain and he felt much better about returning to the garrison. If Michel had felt no trace of the evil’s presence then surely it must be gone. He was just leaving the church, walking past the mouth of the neighboring alley, when a hand clamped down on his arm. A second later he was being yanked forward and slammed into the side of the church.

“Hello, Aramis,” Pierre purred as he moved in close, using his body to pin Aramis in place. “Marisol and I have missed you.”

“Pierre,” Aramis gasped. His free hand started to move toward one of his weapons but the feel of a dagger digging into his side stopped him. 

“Now, now. Don’t be rude,” Pierre grinned wickedly. “Marisol and I really have missed you lately. You know how easily she gets bored. We may have to invite you around to entertain her sometime soon. You and your little friend. You know, the young one with the temper. I’m betting I could whip him into shape in no time.”

“Stay away from him,” Aramis snarled, his fear for d’Artagnan far outweighing his fear for himself. His young lover had already been through so much. He would not allow this fiend to put him through yet more.

“Ooh. Goodness. It seems you do have a spine after all. I look forward to seeing more of it.” With that, Pierre stepped back, releasing Aramis. Two more quick steps and he was back on the street where Aramis couldn’t touch him without drawing a great deal of unwanted attention to himself. Recalling the look of impotent rage on the Musketeer’s face, Pierre began whistling as he ambled off down the street.

Aramis stood frozen in the alley as the minutes ticked by. He sucked in breath after heaving breath as he desperately tried to stop shaking. He needed to get out of there before Pierre decided to come back. Knowing he could never show up at the garrison in such a state, he headed home. Treville was not expecting him back, after all, so no one would really miss him.

Pierre was smiling brightly when he reached his home. He kept recalling the look of fear on Aramis’ face, relishing it. When he recounted their meeting to Marisol she had giggled in delight. Not wanting to stop the fun just yet, Pierre took a piece of paper from his desk and penned a quick note. He sealed it then wrote an elaborate A on the outside of it. Ringing for one of his servants, he handed him the note and directed him to deliver it to the Musketeer garrison. When asked who to give it to, Pierre just smiled wider and told him he was sure it would find its way to the right person.

&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M

To say the trio was relieved to return to the garrison at the end of their patrol was an understatement. All three men had felt the absence of Aramis keenly. Now that their brother was back with them that was where they wanted him. Too much had happened for them to be comfortable with him out of their sight, especially on his own. Yet they knew they could not insist. Harm enough had been done to Aramis’ self-confidence in the name of protection. As it was, all three men despaired of ever getting their confident self-assured brother back completely.

“You two wait here,” Athos said as he headed for the stairs leading up to Treville’s office. “I’ll report in and then we can head home.”

Athos’ report was direct and to the point. They hadn’t had much trouble, the citizens of the Court keeping a low profile. There had been one or two times when they had felt eyes on them. Porthos had pointed out places but, when they looked, no one was there. He told them not to worry about it, that it was likely just some of Flea’s men checking on them. 

“Well, it would seem you have gained an ally,” Treville replied. “And a rather powerful one in her own way.”

“Yes, Sir,” Athos agreed. “Regardless of what the Cardinal might say, I do believe it better to be considered a friend than an enemy by these people.”

“Agreed. Now I know you’re anxious to get home. I won’t keep you,” Treville said, waiving a hand in dismissal. He was about to return to his work when the folded note on his desk caught his eyes. “Oh, Athos, this came for you today.”

Athos took the note, frowning slightly at the unfamiliar handwriting. He closed the door to Treville’s office behind him then stopped on the landing to read the missive. What he read, made his blood run cold.

_My Dear Aramis,_

_I did so enjoy our time together today._

_I look forward to seeing you again._

_Pierre_

Athos read the letter three times before crumpling it in his fist. How dare this man taunt Aramis like this! Taking a deep breath, Athos made up his mind. It was long past time this matter was dealt with once and for all. Looking down, his saw his brothers looking up at him worriedly and knew he needed to tell them. First however, they needed to get home and make sure Aramis was alright.

“What is it?” Porthos asked as Athos nearly ran down the stairs. 

“Home. Now,” Athos said succinctly, making it clear they would get no more from him until they were safely behind closed door. 

The walk home was a quick one as all three men were focused on their destination. The trip reminded Porthos of their walk home from the goldsmith after they’d run into Madame Delacroix. Athos’ edict about venturing out had been lifted, though, so he had no idea what was wrong this time. D’Artagnan, too, had no clue what had upset Athos so much. He could tell it had something to do with Aramis and that made fear coil angry and tight in his belly. He had only been going to visit Father Michel. Surely nothing could have gone wrong during that.

Athos paused just outside the backdoor of their home and drew his pistol. He saw Porthos’ eyes widen in alarm and shook his head. Once he knew Aramis was safe he would explain. Trying the back door, he found it locked. Hoping that was a good sign, he motioned for Porthos to unlock it then made him step back. 

Athos entered quickly, hoping to make up for any noise they made with their entry. His abrupt entry startled Aramis so badly he spun around, crying out in fear. Athos quickly looked him over, noting the wildness in his eyes, then laid his pistol on the table as he crossed the room to him. He pulled his lover into his arms and simply held him, letting the feel of him soothe the fear that had enveloped him the moment he had read that vile note.

“What the hell is going on?” Porthos demanded, his patience at an end. From the way the two men were acting it was clear something had happened to Aramis while they were apart. He wanted to know just what that something was.

“Take them into the sitting room,” d’Artagnan said. “I’ll lock up and join you. Maybe by then one of them will be able to explain.”

It took Porthos a minute to get the pair apart and moving but he finally managed it. In the sitting room, he shoved the pair down in the center of the sofa and was not surprised when Athos immediately wrapped Aramis in his arms again. Whatever had happened had to be bad for Athos to be this clinging and Porthos felt his stomach knot in dread.

In the kitchen, d’Artagnan quickly locked and bolted the back door then hung up his weapons and doublet. Looking around, he saw that Aramis had been in the midst of cooking when they had come storming in. Considering the number of bowls he had spread out all over the counter, something had definitely upset him. Hoping he had given them enough time to at least begin to get themselves together, he headed for the sitting room in the hopes of finding out what the hell was going on.

When he entered the sitting room, he went straight to the sofa and sat down on the end next to Athos. He saw that Porthos had taken his weapons and doublet off and laid them on the chair but Athos was still fully dressed as if unable to pull himself away from Aramis long enough for even that much.

“Athos,” d’Artagnan said softly, “what is going on?”

Athos took a deep breath and reluctantly pulled back though he did not release Aramis entirely. “I received a note at the garrison. It was meant for Aramis.”

“A note?” Porthos frowned. “From who?”

“Pierre Champney,” Athos replied. He felt Aramis go still in his arms and tightened them around him. “I do not know if what he wrote is the truth but I fear that it is.”

“What did he write?” Porthos snarled, his hands balling into angry fists. He heard Aramis make a plaintive sound and saw him try to burrow deeper into Athos’ arms and fought to get a hold on his anger.

“He wrote… He wrote that he had enjoyed their encounter and looked forward to seeing him again,” Athos replied. He felt Aramis start to shake in his arms and leaned in close to his ear. He began to whisper softly to him, telling him he was there and that he was safe and that he would not allow that monster to lay hands on him again. 

“He… He did this… He accosted him today?” d’Artagnan asked, swallowing against the bile that rose in his throat. From Athos’ careful wording he knew anything could have happened and it made his blood run cold to think of Aramis being at this man’s mercy yet again.

“I don’t know,” Athos admitted. “But I believe so. Aramis? Is this true? Did he…”

“Yes,” Aramis replied, his eyes squeezed shut so he would not have to see the revulsion in his brothers’ eyes. When they had arrived, he had been terrified, scared for a moment that Pierre had come for him again. When he had realized it was his brothers, however, he had been even more afraid for it was clear that they knew. Or Athos did at any rate. Shame threatened to drown him as he clutched at Athos’ doublet, too afraid to meet their eyes. When he recalled what Pierre had said, what he had threatened to do, his shame turned to fear and his breathing grew quick and panicky. 

“Aramis, hey, it’s alright,” d’Artagnan said when he saw his brother grow distressed. He had no idea what had happened between the pair. Aramis did not appear to be hurt but that did not necessarily mean anything. They needed him calm, however, if they were going to get any answers out of him.

“Listen to the Whelp,” Porthos said as he slid the tiniest bit closer. He wanted so badly to wrap his arms around the man, to hold him and soothe him as Athos was doing, but Aramis was a hairsbreadth from panicking as it was. “It’ll be okay. We’re here now.”

Athos continued to hold him, relieved when his shaking began to taper off. He kept whispering softly to him, telling him he loved him and would protect him over and over again. He wasn’t sure if that was what Aramis needed to hear or not but it was what he needed to say. When the other man finally managed to stop shaking, Athos drew back once more.

“Can you tell us what happened?” he asked carefully, not wanting to set Aramis off again. 

Aramis nodded and forced himself to release his hold on Athos’ doublet. He leaned back, putting a few more inches of space between them and glanced around at his brothers. “I… I went to Saint Severin,” he began haltingly, “to see Michel. “When I left… When I left… he… he was waiting. He… he grabbed me and pulled me into the alley. He pressed a knife to my ribs. I… I tried to fight but…”

Aramis paused, shame filling him at once more allowing Pierre to get the better of him. He wished now he would have fought him, knife be damned. Anything would be better than sitting here and telling his brothers that he could not even walk down the street without screwing up.

“Aramis,” d’Artagnan called. He waited until he was looking at him before continuing. “It does not matter. Whatever you had to do, as long as it got you back here, to us, it does not matter.”

“I let him…”

“You didn’t let him do anything, love,” Porthos put in, careful to keep his voice even. “He had a bloody knife.”

“What else happened?” Athos asked, wanting to get the tale told so they might comfort their lover properly.

“He said they would invite me around soon to… to entertain Marisol,” he said, growing angry now as he remembered just what Pierre had threatened. “Me and d’Artagnan.”

“Me?” d’Artagnan gasped, surprised. He had not thought Pierre aware enough of him to make such a threat.

“If he touches you I swear to God I’ll kill him,” Aramis snarled, rage flooding through him at the thought of d’Artagnan being so abused.

“Aramis…” D’Artagnan began but Aramis quickly cut him off.

“No,” Aramis spat. “It is one thing for him to take advantage of me, to… to abuse me. I will not allow him to do such a thing to you.”

All three men could not help but cringe at their brother’s words, forcibly reminded of their own actions. That Aramis did not lump them in with the likes of Champney for what they had done was a blessing that they were not sure they deserved.

Aramis felt the atmosphere in the room suddenly change and frowned. He started to ask what was wrong then his words registered and it was his turn to cringe. He had not meant them like that. He would never liken his brothers to that monster. Yes, their acts had been heinous but they had not been of their own doing.

“Stop this,” Aramis said softly, unable to stand the strained silence any longer. “You know my words were not in regards to you.”

“They should be,” Porthos said, his pain clear.

“No, they should not be,” Aramis argued. “You were not responsible for you actions. I know this. More importantly, I believe it. Please stop punishing yourselves for something you had no control over.”

“We are trying,” Athos said, “but it is not easy. Even for me. Not when I see the wariness in your eyes. Not when I know I must still hold myself back. We have lost so much. How can we help but blame ourselves?”

“You have lost nothing,” Aramis insisted angrily, though who that anger was directed at even he could not say. “I am still here. I am still your brother, still your lover. I have needed time, yes, but that did not mean you _lost_ me.”

“Peace, Aramis,” d’Artagnan said, trying to calm him. “We know this. We do. And yet… well… it is difficult not to despair at times. That you are still here, still call us brother, still harbor love in your heart for us after all you have endured…”

“d’Artagnan?” Aramis whispered when the other man fell silent.

“We are humbled by your strength,” he finally said. “And it gives us hope.”

“Was that the whole of it?” Athos asked, wanting to make sure.

“Yes,” Aramis replied. “I think he was afraid of being discovered. We were right at the mouth of the alley beside the church. Had anyone come out...”

Athos nodded. In all this time Pierre had managed to keep his reign of terror against Aramis a secret. To be found out now could prove disastrous for the man should word his activities reach the wrong people. The attempt in itself had been foolhardy and rather outside the norm for the man who had only gone after Aramis in the dead of night in the less reputable areas of Paris. To attack him in broad daylight next to a church spoke of either extreme carelessness or hubris, neither of which boded well for them.

“We need to take care of this, Athos,” d’Artagnan said. “He can’t even walk the streets in the middle of the day without being accosted by this man now.”

“I agree,” Athos said, surprising the lot of them. “I fear if we do not act soon, he will force our hand when we are not ready. But we need to form a plan. We cannot simply kick his door down and kill him in cold blood.”

“Them,” d’Artagnan corrected. “His whore is not blameless. She shared in his torment of Aramis. She can her share in his fate.”

“Them,” Athos amended with a tilt of his head. He didn’t like the idea of killing a woman but he wasn’t going to argue with him over it. He was not wrong and leaving her alive would only end up causing them trouble in the end.

“‘Mis?” Porthos said. “You’re being awful quiet.”

“I want to say that I don’t want you to kill them, that I don’t want you to take the risk, and yet... I do,” Aramis admitted softly. “I do want them dead. I do want you to kill them. And I don’t care that Marisol is a woman. I don’t care that it will be little more than an execution. I just want them dead.”

“If you are expecting us to find fault with that, you will be waiting a very long time,” d’Artagnan told him.

“He’s right, love,” Porthos said. “We’re not gonna fault you for wanting to see those animals brought to justice.”

“But it is not _justice_ I wish,” Aramis countered, his eyes growing hard and cold. “It is retribution. It is bloody revenge. It is the very thing Athos has been trying to keep d’Artagnan from racing off after. The very thing I have been telling him he should not seek. What right do I have now...”

“You have every right,” d’Artagnan said. “Athos... he was not counseling me against going after them because he thought it wrong. It was because he knows how hot-headed I can be, how incautious. It was never because he did not wish them dead for I know that he does, just as badly as any of us. He simply did not want me to rush headlong into it and end up hanging for it.”

“D’Artagnan is right,” Athos said. “It was never my intent that they not be brought to justice for what they did to you. And by brought to justice, I do mean executed. But our boy’s plans tend to be rush in first, weigh the consequences when he is suffering them. This time, those consequences could have proven fatal. I did not wish to see us become wanted men throughout France, hence my caution.”

“I do understand and I agree with you,” Aramis said. “I feel I should want them punished. Properly punished, not simply murdered in their sleep.”

“Little One, I have no intention of murdering them in their sleep,” d’Artagnan told him. “They will be wide awake. They will know exactly what is going to happen to them and why. They will beg for their lives and he will watch his whore of a wife die before I finally kill him.”

“D’Artagnan...” Athos said hesitantly.

“No,” d’Artagnan snapped, glaring at Athos. “After all that pig has done to him, I will not make his death quick and easy. He has terrorized Aramis for years. He will know that same terror before he dies. He will beg for mercy and be shown exactly as much as he has shown.”

“Master, no,” Aramis said softly. He hated to admit that the younger man’s words were a comfort to him, not wanting to spur him on. D’Artagnan was already murderously angry over all that had been done to him. If he admitted that he actually found his reaction a comfort there was no telling what the lad was liable to do. 

“Little One...”

“I will not lose you,” Aramis said firmly. “Do you hear me? I refuse to lose you. Not to Bathory. Not to... to this evil. Not to vengeance. Not to anything. I will not stop you going after them, but you will not throw away everything you are in doing so. Agreed?”

“Agreed,” d’Artagnan replied reluctantly. “Though I do not wish to, I will not go against your wishes. Not willfully. I love you far too much to ever do that. But they will die. Both of them. In that, I will not be swayed.”

“Agreed,” Aramis nodded. 

Athos felt some of his tension ease at both men’s agreement. At least he knew no one was going to be running off into the night to slaughter anyone. He chuckled at the sudden image in his head but it quickly turned into a yawn.

“Athos?” Aramis queried.

“Sorry,” Athos said. “The day must be catching up to me.”

“Come. You need rest. Let us go upstairs,” Aramis said a bit shyly.

“Of course,” Athos replied at once. He stood and turned back only to find Aramis had already risen. He was surprised when Aramis took his hand and began leading him toward the stairs, his actions much bolder than his words had been. It was a glimpse of the man his lover had once been and it gave him hope that that man was not lost to them forever.

As Aramis led Athos up the stairs, Porthos let the smile he had been wearing slide off his face. It was not that he was not happy for the pair because he was. It was just that he had lost so much himself it was hard to see past it sometimes. Aramis had been the love of his life. Porthos knew he would go to his grave still loving the man as he did no other. None of that truly mattered, though. It would not make Aramis love him again, trust him again. At least it should not. 

“Tell me what’s wrong,” d’Artagnan said. He had seen the sudden shift in Porthos, the sadness that had flooded his face as the two men had walked away hand in hand. He knew Porthos did not begrudge the pair their time together.

“It’s nothing, lad,” Porthos said wearily, leaning his head back on the couch and closing his eyes.

“You are lying,” d’Artagnan challenged. “I do not believe I have ever seen you look so sad save for the time we thought Aramis would not awaken. Now tell me what troubles you so.”

“It’s just...” Porthos began then huffed. “I just lost so damn much. It gets to me sometimes. I try not to let is show, not around Aramis anyway. He’d only feel guilty and I don’t want that.”

“What is it you think you have lost?” D’Artagnan asked, wanting to make sure he had the right of it.

“Him,” Porthos said succinctly.

“You are a fool, brother,” d’Artagnan said. “You have no more lost him than I have, than Athos has. He still loves you Porthos. He just needs times to get past everything.”

“You don’t understand,” Porthos shook his head.

“What is it you think I don’t understand?”

“It ain’t the same,” Porthos snarled. “I... What I did... There’s no coming back from that.”

“I know exactly what you did. You abused him, raped him even,” d’Artagnan said as he reached across the sofa and took the man’s hand. “That was not your fault and Aramis know it. He has forgiven you. He just needs time to get past what was done to him. Had his attackers been strangers he would still need the same time to heal. The only one who still blames you for this, Porthos, is you.”

“How can you even stand the sight of me?” Porthos asked, his hand tightening on d’Artagnan’s as if afraid he might pull away.

“How about I show you?” D’Artagnan replied with a touch of cheekiness. It had the desired effect, making Porthos smile and d’Artagnan quickly pulled him to his feet and toward the staircase before he could object.

In the master bedroom, Aramis led Athos inside then closed and locked the door behind them. Returning to Athos, he began to slowly unlace the sleeves of his shirt. He took his time about it, showing the same care in undressing Athos that Athos normally showed when doing this for him. He understood why Athos enjoyed doing this so much. It was quite fulfilling in its own way, allowing him to show a level of care while still being rather innocuous in nature. 

He had to go to his knees to help Athos out of his boots and breeches, causing the man to suck in a breath at the sight. Other than that, Athos did not move, allowing Aramis to do as he would. Aramis hesitated at his smalls then pulled them off as well, wanting to feel his lover beside him once more. He only hoped he didn’t end up overwhelming Athos. This would be the first time they had been naked together since the attack.

Standing once more, he saw Athos start to reach for him then hesitate. Smiling softly, he cupped his lover’s cheek. “Did you wish to undress me now?” 

“Yes,” Athos replied, his voice thick with emotion. “But only if you wish.”

“I do,” Aramis assured him. “Very much so. You may start by unlacing my sleeves.”

Athos drew in a quick breath as Aramis began directing him in what to do. Aramis was not usually so bold in the bedroom, at least not with him. Athos did not mind, though. This was more intimate than they had been since the attack and Athos was willing to do whatever was necessary to make Aramis feel comfortable.

When Aramis was naked as well, he crawled onto the bed pulling Athos in after him. He pushed him down onto his back then moved onto his hands and knees over him. He saw Athos’ eyes darken in lust and felt the first stirrings of heat coil low in his belly. He had not felt like this in weeks, not since before the attack and the strength of the sudden want that hit him would have staggered him had he been standing.

“Aramis,” Athos gasped. “Are you sure? We don’t have to do this.”

“I want to,” Aramis said. He appreciated Athos’ concern for him but he really did want this. He was tired of holding himself back from this man. He wanted his lover back. “Would you mind if I, well, if I led things as it were?”

“You wish to be in charge tonight?” Athos asked wanting to make sure he understood.

“Yes,” Aramis said, blushing slightly. He had never asked for such a thing with Athos. Not with any of his lovers, really. He had taken Athos before but that had been at Athos bequest, not his own. 

“I would like nothing more,” Athos told him truthfully. “At least this way I will not have to fear pushing you into something you are not ready for.”

“You are sure? I know we do not normally...”

“I am quite sure,” Athos told him firmly. “I am yours, Aramis. Completely. Do with me as you will, love.”

“Oh, my Athos. I want you so badly I can hardly think. I want to be inside you again. Like... like our first time together. Can we do that? Can I take you?”

“I am yours,” Athos said again. “In any way you wish me to be.”

Aramis felt his blood start to burn at Athos’ words. He leaned down then and kissed him, softly at first then deeper as the fire in his veins overtook him. His cock had grown hard and full between his legs for the first time in weeks and he pressed his body against his lover’s wanting him to feel his arousal.

Athos let Aramis lead the kiss, doing nothing more than bringing his hands up to hold his lover’s arms. He would take no more than he was offered, but take it he would. When he felt Aramis deepen their kiss he had to fight to remain still and pliant beneath him. When he pressed their bodies together, though, he could not help but gasp at the feel of his lover’s hardness brushing against his own.

“Do you feel me, my Athos?” Aramis whispered as he pulled back and began kissing and nipping along Athos’ jaw to his neck. “Do you feel how hard I am? How I ache for you? You enflame me, my love. You set my body afire. I want to bury myself inside of you and never come out.”

“Anything,” Athos managed as he gasped and squirmed under Aramis’ assault. “Anything for you. I am yours, body and soul, my Aramis.”

Aramis brought their lips together again, kissing him hard and sloppy, his ardor robbing him of any finesse. He had not wanted to admit it but he had begun to despair of ever feeling anything like this again, this white-hot desire that raced along his veins and urged him to throw all caution aside. To have this back, to have it here and now with Athos, was enough to make him giddy with the joy of it. 

Aramis broke away again and began kissing along Athos’ jaw and neck. He flushed when he could not stop himself from giggling like a school boy but he did not care. His heart felt so light that it was in danger of floating right out of his chest. 

“You... you are happy,” Athos gasped. Aramis had begun nipping at his neck and it was sending jolt after jolt of pleasure all throughout his body.

“I am. I am... joyous,” Aramis told him, smiling widely into Athos’ neck. “You fill my heart with joy, my Athos. You are the greatest of blessings to me.”

“Aramis...” Athos moaned, embarrassed by the ardent praise. Aramis was normally taken to praising his lovers but this was excessive even for him. 

“It is only the truth, my dearest love,” Aramis told him. He stopped for a moment and looked into Athos’ eyes. “You mean everything to me, my Athos. I would not be here if not for you. At my lowest moments, you lift me up again. Your light chases away the darkness.”

“It is the same for me, my love,” Athos said. “You are my world. Without you, life has no meaning. You give me hope when for so long all I have known was despair. I am so thankful to have found you. So... so blessed.”

Aramis kissed him again then, Athos words making his heart feel like it was going to explode right out of his chest. Athos returned the kiss with equal vigor, arching up under Aramis and moaning again at the feel of their erections brushing together.

They kissed for long minutes, simply enjoying the taste and feel of each other. Athos wanted to take it slow, not to rush, but he was letting Aramis set the pace this time. His lover needed the control and Athos feared even trying to slow things down would be taking that control from him. Besides, it was not the first time for them. They had made love before. Athos simply wanted to savor this moment, afraid of how long it might be before they had such again.

“It will not be the last time, I promise,” Aramis said as if reading his mind. “I would not give this up, give you up, for all the world.”

Aramis reached across him and retrieved the oil from the beside table. He moved back between Athos’ spread legs then and slicked his fingers. Pushing his thighs apart, he rubbed over his hole spreading the oil around then pressed one finger inside slowly. He was careful with him, moving slowly as he breeched him, as if this were their first time together. Athos was always so careful with him, Aramis wanted to show that same care. He wanted to make Athos feel as cherished and precious as he had made him feel every single day since the ruins.

The careful way Aramis was treating him soon had Athos writhing and begging for more. He moaned, squeezing his eyes shut then snapping them open again, not wanting to miss a second of Aramis like this. “Please,” he begged, growing desperate for more of his lover’s touch. He wanted this man inside of him so badly he could hardly stand it.

“Of course, my love,” Aramis said at once. He added more oil to his fingers and pressed back inside with two. He felt Athos body yield to him easily and Aramis had to bite back his own moan. He told himself to be patient, not to rush. This was Athos. 

In no time at all Athos’ was taking three of his fingers easily. His cock stood out, ruddy and weeping against his stomach. Aramis had to forcing himself not to lean down and take it in his mouth. He knew, though, that Athos would much prefer to spend when Aramis was inside of him rather than inside of Aramis’ mouth. He promised himself he would have that again soon, though.

“Ready?” Aramis asked as he withdrew his fingers and took up the oil once more.

“Please,” Athos replied eagerly. His eyes had grown huge and dark and his breath came in panting gasps. His cock was so hard it hurt but he didn’t reach for it. He wanted to spend with Aramis inside of him, not before. Reaching down, he hooked his hands under his thighs and pulled his legs back baring himself to the other man. The look of unabashed lust on Aramis’ face made his cock give a jerk and he pulled his legs back a bit farther.

“You have no idea how badly I want to taste you right now,” Aramis said as he opened the oil with shaking hands. “My mouth is all but watering at the thought of it.”

“I am yours,” Athos told him again, giving himself over to Aramis completely. “You may have me in any way you wish.”

“Thank you, my love. Soon I will have you that way as well but for tonight I need to be inside of you.” With that, Aramis slicked his cock and set the oil aside. He moved up over Athos and pressed the head of his cock against his loosened hole. Looking into his eyes, he began to push forward, breaching him as slowly with his cock as he had with his fingers.

“Yes,” Athos moaned as Aramis slowly filled him. It seemed as though it had been forever since they had been together in such a manner. To Athos, it felt as though he was finally forgiven for the part he had played in Aramis’ assault. To Athos, he finally had his lover back.

“So good,” Aramis gasped. He stilled once he was fully seated inside the other man, both to let him adjust to the intrusion and simply to bask in the feel of him. He felt like a man dying of thirst who had finally been given water. Now that he had tasted it again, he did not want to give it up. 

“Take me, Aramis,” Athos urged, unable to hold back any longer. “Please, take me.”

“Yes. Yes, now,” Aramis said. He drew back his hips then thrust forward. He moved slowly at first then faster and faster as Athos continued to urge him on. He could feel Athos’ body rippling around his cock and it only fanned the fire. Soon he was fucking him long and deep, rolling his hips as he thrust into him. 

“Close,” Athos gasped as he spread his legs as wide as he could.

“Me too,” Aramis said, panting. “Don’t hold back. Spend for me, love.”

His eyes locked onto Aramis, Athos felt his release slam through him with the force of a blow. He gave a strangled shout then began to spend, his seed striping his belly and chest in long rivulets. He felt Aramis moving inside of him, fucking him through his release and it only made him spend harder. 

Aramis felt Athos’ body clench down on him and could not help but thrust harder. A few sharp thrusts later and he stilled as he began to spend, filling Athos’ body with his seed. When it was over, he lay panting atop his lover, Athos’ seed growing sticky between them. Aramis pulled out of him as carefully as he could. He gave them both a perfunctory cleaning and curled up against Athos’ side. In minutes they were both asleep.


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Snow_Glory for all of the help with this!

When morning came, Aramis awoke to the feel of Athos’ hand running up and down his back. He was somewhat surprised to find he had not moved at all during the night but had stayed curled against Athos’ side, his head pillowed on his chest and his arm wrapped securely around him. 

“Good morning,” Athos said when he noticed Aramis was awake.

“Good morning,” Aramis replied. He lifted his head to look at his lover and smiled softly at the open adoration he saw on Athos’ face. Coupled with it, however, was the merest trace of fear. It was not much but it was enough to have Aramis leaning forward and kissing him, hoping to kiss away the uncertainty he knew lay at the base of his worry.

Athos couldn’t help but grip him tightly, holding him to him. He had been worried that Aramis might have regretted how far things had gone last night. That he did not eased his worry. What they had shared last night was amazing. It showed Athos a side of Aramis he had never seen before and it was something he did not want to lose.

After a time, Aramis drew back. He saw the relief on Athos’ face and stroked his jaw lovingly. “I love you,” he said. “Last night... Last night was a memory I will cherish for all of my days. It is not something I could ever regret.”

“Aramis,” Athos moaned at his words. “I love you so much.”

“I know,” Aramis told him. “I meant what I said last night, you know. I would like to do that.”

“Do what, love?” Athos asked.

“Suck you,” Aramis replied, ducking his head shyly. Only Athos could make him react like a blushing school boy.

Athos felt a jag of lust hit him low in the belly. His cock began to lengthen and fill, already anticipating the feel of that hot, wet mouth. Athos would not have dreamed of asking Aramis for such, aware of all he had been through. But this was not him asking, this was Aramis offering and Athos found himself unable to refuse him.

Aramis could see the effect his words had on the other man. Athos’ skin had flushed in arousal and his breathing had quickened. He shifted against him and felt Athos’ hardening cock causing both of them to moan. 

“Oh my Athos,” Aramis gasped. “Do you want that? Do you want to feel my mouth on you once more?”

“Yes,” Athos replied, his voice barely more than a whisper. 

“Then you shall.” With that, Aramis slowly began kissing his way down Athos’ body. Every kiss he laid down earned him another gasping moan from his lover and drove his own desire higher. It felt so good to be like this again, to be close to his lover, giving and receiving pleasure equally.

Aramis continued to kiss his way down until he reached Athos’ navel. He pressed sucking kisses all around it then began to kiss his way down again. He felt his first stirrings of unease when he felt Athos’ hard cock brush against his chin. He clamped down on it ruthlessly, telling himself this was Athos, he had no reason to be afraid. 

Taking a deep breath, Aramis tried to push his fears away and took hold of Athos’ hard cock by the base. He felt his stomach clench as he lifted it to his lips but forced himself to open his mouth and take the hard flesh inside. As soon as Aramis closed his mouth around the head of Athos’ cock, he knew he could not do this. With a gag, he pulled off and rolled over toward the side of the bed, his breath coming in great heaving pants as he fought the urge to be sick.

“Aramis! What’s wrong?” Athos asked, panicked. He sat up and moved to Aramis side, but did not touch him. He was unsure what was going on and did not want to cause Aramis any further distress. 

“I’m sorry,” Aramis managed after long seconds of simply breathing, his stomach clenching and rolling nauseatingly. 

“You have nothing to apologize for,” Athos said as he laid a careful hand on his shoulder. He felt Aramis flinch and cringed but he did not pull away so Athos kept his hand where it was. “But I would know what it is that has upset you so.”

When Aramis failed to answer, Athos tried again. “Was it... was it the memories?” 

Aramis nodded, shame robbing him of his voice. 

“Aramis, look at me, please,” Athos said when Aramis continued to stare at the floor. He waited patiently until Aramis finally met his eyes. That Aramis’ own were wet did not surprise him. “You have nothing to apologize for. We have all of us struggled with such things.”

“I did not mean to tease, to offer something and then...”

“Oh love,” Athos said as he pulled the unresisting man into his arms. “It is alright. I am not upset about that. I am simply worried for you. I understand. The memory has not faded enough for you yet. There is no shame in needing more time.”

“I am sorry,” Aramis said into Athos’ chest. “I truly did want to share that with you.”

“Then you shall,” Athos said firmly. “Just not quite yet.”

They stayed in bed a bit longer. Athos held Aramis as they softly talked of inconsequential things. He knew Aramis still felt as though he had failed somehow. Athos could understand the sentiment. If it had been him, he would likely feel the same. Still, Aramis had enough to deal with without taking on the added guilt of this.

“Do you feel up to going downstairs?” Athos asked once he felt Aramis had calmed sufficiently.

“If we must,” Aramis replied teasingly.

“I am afraid so,” Athos grinned. “If we do not report in, Treville is liable to have half the garrison out looking for us.”

Aramis chuckled at that and raised his head from Athos’ chest. He looked into his eyes and saw nothing but the same love and devotion he always did. While Athos might be a bit sexually frustrated, it was clear he found no fault with him. 

Reaching up, Aramis placed a soft kiss to Athos’ lips hoping to recapture a bit of the previous mood. He did not want to have sex and did not think Athos did either. He did, however, want to recapture the closeness they’d had before. 

Eventually, the pair managed to pull themselves away from each other enough to rise and dress. Athos knew their brothers were already up and about. He hoped d’Artagnan had made breakfast, hoping it would show Aramis that the duty was not his alone now. Their words certainly had not done any good in that regard.

They entered the kitchen hand in hand. Aramis was about to head to the sink when he noticed that breakfast had already been prepared. He paused, his eyes shifting to Porthos and d’Artagnan as they sat at the kitchen table. He felt a wave of apprehension but was unsure why exactly, if it had to do with what happened upstairs or was simply in relation to the unexpected breakfast.

“‘Mis? You okay?” Porthos asked carefully. He had warned the Whelp that they were taking a chance cooking but they had both agreed it was worth the risk. 

“Sorry,” Aramis said as he walked to the table and sat down. “Breakfast looks wonderful. Thank you for cooking.”

“It was no trouble,” d’Artagnan said then carefully added, “You have been doing it enough of late. It is long past time someone else took a turn.”

“Nonsense,” Aramis replied. “I need to earn my keep after all.”

“Earn your...” Porthos began only to choke on his words when Athos kicked him under the table.

“Aramis was only joking,” Athos said, his eyes locking with Aramis and making his thoughts on the matter quite clear.

That night as they were preparing for bed, Athos managed to slip away with d’Artagnan for a few minutes. He had wanted to speak to the other man all day but simply had not found the opportunity to do so, not where he was certain they would not be overheard. 

“What is it?” D’Artagnan asked once he and Athos had quietly slipped into the kitchen. He had known something had been on Athos’ mind all day, catching the man glancing toward him furtively. He had started to say something once but Athos had caught him and shook his head so he had let it be.

“I would speak to you of something and know your thoughts,” Athos said. “It isn’t anything bad, truly, but it is troubling me and I would have your help with it if you feel able.”

“There is nothing I would not help you with, brother,” d’Artagnan told him earnestly.

“I know,” Athos replied. “It is not your intent I doubt, you simply may not be able to.” 

“Tell me,” d’Artagnan urged, truly worried now.

“Very well,” Athos said. He started to speak then stopped and frowned. “Perhaps this is not a good idea after all.”

“Athos?”

“I have no wish to hurt you, brother.”

“I promise, I will take no offense at anything you tell me. Now talk to me and let me do what I can to ease your burden.”

“Alright,” Athos relented. “This morning, Aramis and I, we... that is... we...”

“You were... together?” D’Artagnan asked when Athos struggled with what to say.

“Yes,” Athos nodded then forced himself to go on. “We had been last night and things went well. Aramis, he wanted to... to continue our time together. He wanted to try... to... to take me in his mouth.”

“Oh,” d’Artagnan said. He thought he had a pretty good idea of what Athos was trying to tell him and why it was troubling him so much. “I take it he was less than successful?”

“He no more than got his mouth on me before he heaved himself away,” Athos confided. “It seemed like forever before he was calm enough to lay back down. I tried to tell him it was simply too soon but I know he felt like he failed me in some way.”

“We are all of us prideful men,” d’Artagnan said. “I daresay any of us would have felt that way no matter how justified the response was. You said your encounter the previous night, it went well?”

“Yes. Very well.”

“Take heart from that then. This might have been a step back but it was a small one even if Aramis feels it a bit more keenly than he should. In truth, I think he was rushing it. This act in particular has been tainted for him. It will likely be some time before he can see it through to its completion. I fear we will all of us have to be patient with him.”

“And Porthos,” Athos added. “I do not think he will take learning of this well. It is why I did not wish to speak of it with him near. He will only end up blaming himself and that will help no one, least of all Aramis.”

&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M

With Christmas fast approaching things in the city seemed to quiet down. Whether it was the cold or the overall season, the usual bunch of miscreants were lying low for once. The first snowfall had come late this year but it brought with it the same melancholy memories it always did for Aramis. Thoughts of his lost brothers were always a double-edged sword for him. On the one side, he wanted to keep their memories alive, yet on the other their loss haunted him to this day. He only wished it did not seem as if he was the only one who still cared. He knew his brothers did not mean to forget. Life goes on, after all. Yet for him those memories would never dull no matter how much time passed.

When Athos came downstairs he was surprised to find Aramis sitting at the kitchen table, staring out the small window over the sink. Seeing the snow starting to gather on the sill, he cursed to himself. Aramis had enough on his mind of late without his usual winter doldrums setting in. He would snap out of it in a few days’ time, he always did, but until then he was more apt to lose himself in his own thoughts paying little heed to what went on around him. They always kept a close eye on him when the snow began to fall, this time they would need to be especially diligent. 

“Finally decide it’s someone else’s turn to cook?” Athos asked carefully. He wasn’t sure if it was a mistake or not to mention it, but letting Aramis get lost in his own head was likely worse.

“Ah, no,” Aramis said. He looked around the kitchen as if he just now realized where he was. Pushing back from the table, he stood abruptly. Athos was right. He needed to see to breakfast before his brothers came down.

“Aramis, stop this,” Athos said, reaching out and grabbing Aramis’ arm. 

“I need...”

“No,” Athos said gently but firmly. “This is not your responsibility alone. At least let me help you this morning.”

“Al-alright,” Aramis agreed albeit reluctantly. He always felt panicky when his brothers tried to relieve him of this duty. He knew he was being unreasonable but he could not seem to help it. While the thought of Athos helping him still made him somewhat uneasy, it wasn’t as bad as the previous morning.

Athos considered Aramis’ agreement as a victory, minor though it might be. Anything was better than his continued insistence that this was now his lot. He hated that they had done this to him, that they had cowed him to the point of acting as if he was their servant rather than the most important person in their lives. He still berated himself for not speaking up in the beginning. Maybe if he had, they would not be dealing with this now.

&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M

With the city as close to at peace as it was likely to get, Treville was able to stagger his men so that they all managed at least some time off over the holiday. He had even sent his four trouble makers to fetch Constance and bring her back to Paris. There might still be danger about but he refused to spend his first Christmas with his new wife apart. From the smile Aramis had been unable to contain, he thought the decision a sound one.

Treville thought he had never seen a more beautiful sight than when they came riding back into the garrison just as the sun was sinking below the horizon. He had not wanted to admit it but he had missed his wife terribly. Her endless patience and resolve were a balm to him and he had felt her absence acutely. 

Seeing how affected their Captain was drove home to them just how taxing all of this was on the man. He might not be in the midst of it as they were but that did not mean it had no bearing on him. Sitting up there in his office, it was easy to forget how strongly the Captain felt for his men and the four of them in particular. He would not rest easy until this threat had been dealt with.

Back at home, they migrated to the sitting room. Athos lit a fire in the hearth while Aramis picked up his Bible and sat down on the sofa. He saw d’Artagnan hesitate and reached toward him. He had spent a great deal of time of late thinking about his brothers and how he was still holding himself back from them. He knew he wasn’t ready for a lot of things, but he was determined to stop keeping his brothers at bay. He needed them. And, from what he could see, they needed him as well.

When d’Artagnan took his hand, Aramis drew him down next to him and leaned back against him. Pulling his arm around him, he opened his Bible and began to read, letting the warmth of d’Artagnan’s body ease him. For all the time that they had been together, this felt like it had back at the Maison when they had made those first tentative gestures toward each other.

Porthos watched the pair on the sofa and felt his heart give a twist. While he was glad his brothers were starting to find their way back to each other, it hurt to have to watch. Still, he was glad for it, glad for Aramis and glad for d’Artagnan. They deserved to be happy and they deserved to be happy together. He only wished… 

Porthos was startled out of his thoughts by the feel of Athos’ hand on his shoulder. He smiled wanly at the man then sat down in the chair leaving the remaining room on the sofa for him. While he knew there was room enough for all four of them, he didn’t want to crowd Aramis. And if he was being completely honest, he was not sure such proximity on his part would be welcome any longer. At least not as it had been. 

Aramis looked up when Athos sat down, smiling softly at his lover. When he saw that Porthos had taken the chair rather than making room next to them his smile slipped. He started to say something but he suddenly could not find the words. He wanted to reach out to his brother, but for the very first time he was not sure how.

Not knowing what else to do, Aramis resumed his reading. He pulled d’Artagnan’s arm around him a little bit tighter as if afraid to let him go. He started when he felt a hand on his leg and looked up to see Athos looking at him intently. 

“d’Artagnan, why don’t you take Aramis upstairs,” Athos suggested. “I know he’s tired after the long ride today.”

“Ah, Athos…” d’Artagnan stammered unsure what to say. While he would like nothing more than to take Aramis upstairs and tend to him, he was not at all sure the other man wanted such a thing. 

“Do not be obtuse, d’Artagnan,” Athos chided gently, his eyes still locked on Aramis. “He has all but wound you around him. He would not have done so if he did not wish you close.”

“Are you sure?” d’Artagnan whispered to Aramis as he leaned in close to him. He was so close, in fact, that his lips nearly brushed the shell of Aramis’ ear and the feel of his breath ghosting across his neck made him shiver.

“Y-yes,” Aramis replied, his hand tightening on d’Artagnan’s arm.

Athos leaned forward and took Aramis’ Bible from him. He marked his place then carried it back over to the mantel. When he turned back, he watched as d’Artagnan pulled Aramis up from the sofa and held his hand as he led him up the stairs. 

“Do you wish to talk about it?” Athos asked once d’Artagnan and Aramis were safely away.

“Not much to talk about,” Porthos sighed. “And before you say it, I know he’s still here. But I ain’t blind, Athos. And neither are you.”

“How things are right now is not how they will always be,” Athos replied.

“Really? You sure about that?” Porthos challenged though there was no heat to his words. “Because I’m not. Don’t mistake me, I’m damn glad I’ve still got him in my life at all. But what I did, there’s no forgiving that.”

“Should not that be Aramis’ decision?”

“Yeah. And he’s made it pretty clear.”

“Porthos,” Athos sighed, running his hand through his hair in frustration. “I cannot make you believe but Aramis has not given up on you. Don’t give up on him.”

Upstairs, d’Artagnan hesitated, unsure which room to take. 

“Mine, please,” Aramis whispered then cringed inwardly. He hated having a room designated as ‘his’, as if his brothers were unwelcome. Yet he could not deny it. While Athos might have shared the room with him a time or two, by and large it was his. 

“What is it?” d’Artagnan asked after leading Aramis inside and closing the door most of the way.

“I referred to this as my room,” Aramis shrugged, trying to appear as though it did not affect him as much as it did. “I find I do not much care for such a thing.”

“It is your room,” d’Artagnan said. He saw Aramis give a minuscule flinch and lifted his hand to his mouth to kiss it. “But only for now. Give yourself time, love.”

“Time,” Aramis repeated. He moved closer to d’Artagnan wanting to feel his warmth once more. “That is what I have been doing. And in doing so I have made you think us lost to one another.”

“That was my fear talking,” d’Artagnan said. “And my guilt. That you would still allow me this, allow me to hold you and touch you and…”

“I love you,” Aramis said, as if that somehow explained it all.

Before he could stop himself, d’Artagnan pulled Aramis into his arms and pressed a kiss to his lips. He kept it as chaste as he could manage, not daring to open his lips and try to taste this man for fear of pushing Aramis too far. Even after their talk he had despaired of ever truly having this man as a lover again and to feel him like this was worth everything he had endured at Gaspar’s hands and more.

At the feel of d’Artagnan’s lips on his Aramis froze. A second later he was melting against the man, his hands grabbing at his waist as he pulled him in flush against him. Even as they kissed he could not help but feel touched at the way d’Artagnan kept his lips firmly closed, his hands confined to his arms and back. He was being so very careful with him but through it all Aramis could feel the desire raging to be let free.

Wanting more, and wanting to show d’Artagnan that he trusted him, Aramis parted his lips and began nipping softly at his lover’s mouth. He felt d’Artagnan’s body stiffen, his hands balling into fists, as he tried to hold himself back. That only spurred Aramis on and he pressed against him as fully as he could as he continued to nip and kiss at his lips. 

Jerking away, d’Artagnan buried his face in the side of Aramis’ neck as a wild rush of sensations threatened to overpower him. He felt Aramis try to pull back and tightened his arms around him. He was shaking as he panted against the other man but there was no help for it. Aramis’ unexpected boldness had nearly undone him.

“It’s alright,” Aramis soothed as he gave up trying to get a look at d’Artagnan and simply held him instead. 

“I love you so much,” d’Artagnan whispered, his voice breaking. 

“No more so than I do you,” Aramis told him fervently. “You are exhausted, love. Come. Let us get ready for bed.”

“I should go,” d’Artagnan said and started to pull away only for Aramis to stop him.

“No. Stay. Please. I… I want you to.”

“You don’t have to do this,” d’Artagnan told him. He stepped back forcing Aramis to release him so he could get a look at him. “Athos will understand…”

“I am not doing this because Athos said to,” Aramis broke in. 

“Then why are you?”

“Because I love you and… I miss you,” Aramis replied. “If you do not wish to stay…”

“I always want to stay,” d’Artagnan told him, smiling shyly. “But my body does not always behave as I wish it to. I am only just now getting you back. I do not want to do anything that might jeopardize that.”

“You won’t.” 

Determined dark eyes met equally wary ones but d’Artagnan agreed nevertheless. He had left the door ajar after all and he had a feeling Athos would be up before too much longer. He only hoped he was able to help Porthos. For no matter how good it felt to hold Aramis once more, seeing the despondency in Porthos’ eyes hurt.

&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M

Christmas morning dawned bright and cold. The grey clouds that had been curtaining the city in an oppressive blanket had disappeared, giving way to the blinding light of the sun as it glinted off the snow that still rested in errant windowsills. 

Aramis had been up before the sun, the anticipation of the day refusing to let him sleep. The Captain and Constance were joining them for breakfast and then they were all going to hear Michel say Mass at Saint Severin. He wasn’t sure which he was looking forward to most, having nearly everyone he loved together or listening to Michel deliver the Christmas Mass. Whichever it was, the combination of the two was more than his nerves could take which was why he was up before dawn making breakfast and waiting for his family to join him.

“I thought you were going to let me at least help with that from now on,” Athos said as he came into the kitchen and saw that breakfast as all laid out.

“I was up,” Aramis shrugged, blushing slightly. When Athos went to move past him, he turned and stopped him. 

“What?” 

“Just this,” Aramis said as he leaned in and kissed him. 

By the time the Captain and Constance arrived Aramis was all but vibrating with excitement. It was enough to make all three men grin widely, gladdened to see Aramis so happy again. Even Porthos felt his spirits lifted in the face of Aramis’ unabashed joy. It was a glimpse of the man his brother used to be and Porthos took heart in knowing that man was not lost to them forever.

Christmas Mass at Saint Severin was an uplifting one. Aramis had sat next to Porthos during the service and had been unable to resist carefully taking his hand and squeezing it as Michel spoke to the congregation about their Savior and the gift of forgiveness. 

After the service, their group held back knowing Aramis wanted a chance to speak with his friend. In truth, none of them were in any hurry to leave. Aramis had been practically transformed while listening to Michel’s sermon and they had no wish for that to end. 

“That was beautiful,” Aramis said as he hugged Michel tightly. 

“I am glad you enjoyed it,” Michel told him, smiling fondly. “And I am glad to see you brought your family as well.”

They talked a bit longer, catching up and simply enjoying the camaraderie. Athos made a mental note to make sure Aramis attended Mass more often. Anything that brought his brother this much joy would definitely be worth it. He had not missed the way Aramis had moved subtlety closer to Porthos either. It might not have been much but it was something and Porthos was in sore need of something to give him hope. 

&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M

Even with Christmas over, the city remained quiet. Athos attributed that more to the bitter cold than any leftover spirit of the season. While it made their job easier, it put a damper on their more personal agenda. 

“Any sign of them?” Athos asked d’Artagnan when he returned from the market. Aramis had told them that the Champneys always went away over Christmas but returned soon after. They were keeping an eye out for their arrival. This threat to Aramis was not going to be allowed to persist.

“Spotted him just as I was leaving,” d’Artagnan said as he joined Athos at the table. He glanced toward the sitting room and saw Aramis on the sofa. “Where’s Porthos?”

“Putting some feelers out within the Court.”

“Alone?”

“I did not like it either,” Athos conceded, “but he needed some time to himself.”

“He’s trying, Athos,” d’Artagnan said. “It’s not easy for him. What Porthos did…”

“I know. He broke every bond of trust between them. Aramis… he wants to forgive him he simply… can’t. Not yet. He will, though. Aramis loves Porthos as he does no other. That bond may have bene damaged but nothing on this earth could sever it.”

“I hope you’re right,” d’Artagnan said. “I just… I hate seeing them like this. They need each other but they’re both too scared to reach out.”

“One day at a time, that is all we can do. But enough about that for now. Tell me about Champney. He didn’t see you, did he?”

“No, I was in the shadows. He never even looked in my direction.”

“Good. We can’t afford for him to get wind of us. If he were to tell anyone…”

“I know, but I don’t think he will. For one thing, he’s too arrogant. For another, he’d have to give some kind of explanation and I can’t see him admitting to what he’s been doing to Aramis.”

“Still, it would be better to be cautious until this situation has been dealt with.”

“Don’t worry, Athos. I want this over and done with just as badly as you do.”

When Porthos returned home he found Athos and d’Artagnan seated at the kitchen table while Aramis bustled about the kitchen. He could tell from the way Aramis flitted from one place to the next that something was amiss and looked to his brothers.

“We were starting to worry again, brother,” Athos said, the subtle rebuke clear. 

“Sorry,” Porthos winced. “Lost track of time. Flea’s got people keepin’ an eye out for us, though.”

“Well that is something then,” Athos said. 

Dinner was a slightly tense affair. Aramis was still a bit on edge over Porthos being gone so long. Hearing confirmation that Pierre was indeed back in Paris had only added to it. After dinner, Athos had taken him straight upstairs at his brothers’ urging. He had started to suggest that Porthos accompany him, wanting to give the pair some time together but Porthos had stopped him, gesturing toward Aramis. He had been looking somewhat wild-eyed at the suggestion and Athos realized that he was pushing. As much as they all wanted to see the bond between the pair healed, it could not happen until Aramis was ready for it to.

“Athos shouldn’t’ve done that,” Porthos said once the pair were safely out of ear-shot.

“He was only trying to help,” d’Artagnan said as he pulled Porthos down on the sofa with him. He curled around the bigger man, letting his presence offer what balm it could.

“Aramis doesn’t want…”

“Yes he does,” d’Artagnan told him. “He may not be ready yet, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t want to be. He misses you as badly as you miss him. You just have to be patient with him for a little while longer.”

“I’d wait for him forever,” Porthos said wistfully. “I never loved anyone like I love him. You don’t have to stay down here, Whelp. I’m sure they wouldn’t mind you joining them.”

“And if this is where I want to be?” d’Artagnan asked. While he did want to be with Aramis and Athos, he could not stand the thought of Porthos down here alone. Besides, being with his brother wasn’t exactly a hardship.

“Then I’m a very fortunate man.”

“Come on,” d’Artagnan said as he stood and held out a hand to Porthos. Pulling him up from the sofa, he extinguished the lamps and led the other man up the stairs to the empty bedroom. “We were worried about you when you were gone so long.”

“Sorry,” Porthos said quietly, not wanting to disturb the others. He could see that Athos had left the door slightly ajar. He was glad his brother was still being so careful, though he knew he didn’t need to be. “There’s always something in need of fixing and the kids were going cold.”

“It’s alright,” d’Artagnan told him. “Just know that we worry for you. _I_ worry for you, brother. Just as with Athos and Aramis, I would not have you gone from my side either.”

D’Artagnan saw the shadow of doubt in Porthos’ eyes and sighed. This rift with Aramis was making him doubt them all. While he could understand it, it needed to be stopped before it could erode their very foundation. Moving in close, d’Artagnan pulled Porthos into a kiss catching him off guard. Porthos reacted at once, however, opening his mouth to the younger man as he yanked him in tight against him.

Porthos tried to keep from making too much noise as they kissed. He knew that there was a fair chance that Aramis and Athos were doing something similar but, at the same time, there was a chance they weren’t and he didn’t want to make anyone uncomfortable. It was hard, though. While he had been with his brothers since this whole mess began it had not been often. 

Breaking away from their kiss, d’Artagnan eyed his lover for a moment. “Stay right there,” he said then pushed away to stride over to the door. He closed it firmly then grinned, his dark eyes twinkling, as he crossed the room back to Porthos. They ended up on the bed in a tangle of arms and legs, one minute moaning and the next shushing each other and trying not to laugh. 

In no time at all they were both naked, their arousal insistent between their legs. Recalling what Athos had confided to him about his attempted union with Aramis, he had to wonder if Porthos might not have a similar issue. Wanting to see if he might be able to help in some way, he pushed Porthos down onto his back on the bed and moved over him. He saw the unmistakable flash of lust in his eyes and swooped down to kiss him hotly before pulling back once more.

“I want to suck you,” he whispered, all but holding his breath as he waited for Porthos’ reply.

Porthos’ breath left him in a rush at d’Artagnan’s softly spoken request. He felt his cock give a jerk at the thought and opened his mouth to reply. Before he could answer, however, a wave of guilt washed over him and he turned away, unable to meet the younger man’s eyes. 

“Hey,” d’Artagnan said as he reached out and gently turned Porthos’ face back toward him. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not,” Porthos said, his voice gruff with everything he was trying so hard to hold inside.

“Yes, it is. I get it. I do. But I’d still like to try. I think you need to do this.”

“Whelp…”

“Can I suck you, Porthos?” d’Artagnan asked as coyly as he could. He could see the struggle going on inside his lover and ached for him. He meant what he had said, though. Porthos needed to do this or to try to at any rate. It wouldn’t solve everything but it would be a step toward forgiving himself and Porthos needed that as much if not more than he needed Aramis to forgive him.

Porthos looked at the young man staring at him so earnestly. He could see how much he wanted to do this, could see all of the genuine care and affection he held for him in his eyes. That, coupled with the lust he saw, was enough to give him the courage to at least try. 

“Yeah,” Porthos agreed hesitantly. 

Smiling widely, d’Artagnan sat up and maneuvered an unresisting Porthos around until he was sitting on the edge of the bed. He slid to his knees between the man’s parted thighs ignoring his sharp gasp of surprise. Resting his hands on Porthos’ tense thighs, he waited, giving him a chance to steady himself again. Once the muscles under his hands began to relax, d’Artagnan reached forward and took hold of his half-hard cock.

Keeping one hand braced on Porthos’ thigh, he leaned in and sucked the soft head into his mouth. It was odd feeling Porthos in his mouth like this. He had only ever sucked him when he was hard and full. It was nice to be able to fit so much of him in so easily and he took advantage of it, taking him in deeply and running his tongue up and down the rapidly swelling flesh.

Porthos could not hold back a moan at the feel of d’Artagnan’s mouth taking him in almost to the root. The boy had never managed to get so much of him in before and he knew it was because he was not yet fully hard. He was careful not to hold the lad’s head in any way, not wanting to force his head down as his cock grew larger. 

Bit by bit, d’Artagnan was forced to give up his prize as Porthos’ cock grew thick and hard in his mouth. He used his hand to make up for what his mouth could no longer reach and laved what he could get into his mouth liberally. He ran his tongue around the head, sucking around it, then began to fuck his mouth up and down the shaft.

Porthos bit back a curse at the feel of d’Artagnan sucking hard on the head of his cock. He balled his hands into fists to keep from reaching for him. His mouth felt so good on his cock, hot and wet, and he wanted to sink his hands into his hair and fuck up into it. Instead, he gripped the bedsheets as tight as he could and moaned long and loud.

Pulling off, d’Artagnan sat back for a moment and regarded his lover. He could see how hard Porthos was struggling to keep still and frowned. Reaching out, he covered his balled up hands with his own. “You can touch me, you know,” he said, his voice scratchy. 

“I… I don’t…”

“I want you to,” d’Artagnan said. He understood why Porthos was so hesitant but he needed him to understand that he trusted him. 

“Al-alright,” Porthos replied.

With a grin, d’Artagnan turned back to what he had been doing, moaning around Porthos’ cock when he felt the man hesitantly sink his hands into his hair. He moaned even louder when he felt those hands tighten and begin to guide him, moving his head up and down on Porthos, making him take his cock a bit deeper with each downward pull of his head. In no time at all Porthos’ cock was nudging the back of his throat and d’Artagnan could taste the salty tang of his impending release every time he pulled back. 

“Close,” Porthos panted as he began to move faster.

D’Artagnan merely gripped his leg tighter and did his best to swallow around the cock trying to shove into his throat. The action tore a strangled shout from Porthos as he thrust forward hard and began to spend, his hands tightening in d’Artagnan’s hair as he all but ground the lad’s face into him.

Finally spent, Porthos sat up from where he had bent over the other man. He gently pulled d’Artagnan away from his softening cock and lifted him up onto the bed beside him. The younger man’s cock stood out hard and flushed as it curved up toward his belly and Porthos wasted no time in wrapping his hand around it.

D’Artagnan cried out loudly at the feel of Porthos’ hand around his straining member. He tried to buck up but the man’s hand on his hip held him in place. A few quick pulls of that strong hand was all it took and he was shuddering through his own release before collapsing next to him, utterly spent. 

Both men were so wrung out they didn’t notice the shadows standing in the doorway watching them or the soft click as the door was once more closed. Aramis had heard the sounds of moaning and had risen to check on his brothers. He had opened their door as quietly as he could and what he had seen had frozen him on the spot. D’Artagnan had been on his knees between Porthos’ splayed thighs, nuzzling between his legs. 

Aramis’ hand had shot to his mouth, covering it lest he make some sound and alert the pair to his presence. He had no desire to disturb them but at the same time he could not bring himself to turn away. He felt fear grip him and threaten to crawl up his throat when Porthos’ hands sank into d’Artagnan’s hair. He had started to take a step forward, unable to stop himself as the memories of another time rose up within him. Only Athos hand on his shoulder stopped him, drawing him back to the here and now.

Silently, they watched the pair, the sounds of their moans floating to them in the otherwise quiet room. It was obvious that d’Artagnan was enjoying what he was doing and that loosened the fear that had gripped Aramis when he had first started watching them. When it was over and Porthos pulled d’Artagnan up beside him, bringing the young man off, Aramis felt the last of his unease dissipate. He glanced over his shoulder at Athos and smiled softly letting him know that he was okay now. Athos squeezed his shoulder again and carefully maneuvered them out of the doorway, closing the door softly behind them.

At the garrison the next day, Athos went up to talk to Treville. A short time later, he came down and began handing out assignments for the day. He sent Porthos and d’Artagnan down near the Court to patrol and assigned Aramis to the infirmary with Francois. Serge was finally back on his feet and Athos wanted the boy’s training to commence again.

“What of you, brother?” Aramis asked as he watched their brothers head through the gate.

“I have a few errands to run,” Athos said somewhat cryptically.

Aramis’ breath caught as he took in the meaning of Athos’ words. “You will be careful, won’t you?”

“I am doing reconnaissance, Aramis. Nothing more,” Athos assured him. He leaned in close then so no one else would hear. “I will not move against him on my own. I promise.”

Aramis didn’t like it but he had little choice but to let Athos go. He certainly couldn’t risk trailing Pierre. The man would spot him in an instant. Athos at least had a chance of remaining unseen. And while he still would prefer his brothers not dirty their hands with this, he knew something had to be done. Pierre was becoming more brazen, even going so far as to threaten d’Artagnan. While he might have been willing to ignore the threats against himself he would not risk his brothers. That meant dealing with Pierre, and Marisol, once and for all. 

Hoping to keep his mind occupied, Aramis busied himself working with Francois. The boy had devoted all of his time of late to taking care of Serge. While it had served him well, it had put his martial skills even further behind. Aramis decided that was where they would concentrate for now. 

By the time the sun began to set, Aramis and Francois both were past tired. Aramis had forgotten how exhausting training a new recruit could be. While Francois had promise, the lack of training of late showed. He would need to confer with Athos and get his opinion on the best way to proceed. The boy would make a fine medic but he would do no one any good if he got himself killed the first time he ventured past the garrison gates.

Athos had returned just as Porthos and d’Artagnan had, the three of the walking back into the garrison together much to Aramis’ relief. He had not wanted to admit it, but he had been terribly worried for Athos all day. Pierre was a snake and Aramis wouldn’t put it past him hiring others to assist him if need be. 

That night Athos filled them in on the little he had found out. Pierre and Marisol were indeed back. He had watched Pierre for a good part of the day, noting the man’s coming and goings. As much as he did not want to, it looked like they were going to have to take the pair at their home if they did not want to risk being seen. Even that had its risks, however, as Athos had noted the presence of several servants. 

“We could wait for him to try to take me again,” Aramis suggested, his eyes resolutely glued to kitchen table as he did so. The thought turned his stomach but it was one way to ensure that none of the servants were in the house when they struck. 

“No,” Porthos spat, the very idea making him want to be sick. He would rather take a chance on slaughters those pigs in the street than let them get their hands on Aramis again no matter for how short a time. 

“I must agree with Porthos,” Athos said, forestalling d’Artagnan’s objection. “We will find some other way that does not put you at risk.”

“Better me than the lot of you,” Aramis tried to argue.

“No,” d’Artagnan replied flatly, echoing Porthos’ sentiments. “Do not even ask such a thing of us. We cannot, Aramis. We simply cannot.”

Aramis looked up at his brothers then and saw the stricken looks on their faces. He immediately regretted his suggestion. He had not meant to hurt them. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I was not thinking. Forgive me.”

“It’s alright,” Athos said. “We understand your desire to keep us safe. But you must understand we feel the same where you are concerned. The thought of these people getting their hands on you again, we simply cannot abide it.”

As the days wore on, Athos continued to watch their quarry. Before long he had Champney’s routine down, watching as the man made his rounds before returning home to his wife. He thought the man might have caught sight of him once or twice but he had not varied his routine so Athos had continued his surveillance. 

The time was growing short and all four of them could feel it. Aramis was starting to grow antsy again, resuming his incessant cooking much to his brothers’ dismay. Athos didn’t say anything about it, simply helping him when he allowed it and letting him be the rest of the time. He understood Aramis’ worry. There were any number of ways that this could go very wrong for them. Still, he was not rescinding his permission having recognized the need to see this finally over and done with. 

&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M

La Oscuridad had been watched the house from across the way for days. Its desire for vengeance raged within it, making it want to throw this body against the door barring it again and again until it reached the Seminarian… the Musketeer… Aramis. That, however, would be foolish in the extreme. 

No, it needed to bide its time. Patience would serve it best here. The Seminarian could not hide behind his brothers forever. He would have to venture out sometime. And when he did, it would be waiting. But its wait did not have to be an idle one. It was not the only enemy the Seminarian had after all.

It had thought the one known as Champney would be useful but it was growing frustrated. The man was too busy with his machinations and schemes to act and it was tired of waiting. It wanted the Seminarian to pay. Perhaps the one known as Champney needed a bit of encouragement. Perhaps he needed a reason other than simply his entertainment.

Slipping into the young Musketeer had been easy enough. Even after the explosion in the garrison they were not on guard against it. No one challenged it as it walked down the street. Wearing the body of a Musketeer had its benefits. It could not afford to stay long, however. Though this one had not known of it, there were those that would be on guard against it. It could not afford to be discovered. Not yet.

Walking down the street, it slowed when it neared the house of Champney and his wife. He knew the man was still in the market making his rounds for the day, the Musketeer Athos dogging his every move. That was fine with it. Knocking on the door, it waited. It would leave Champney a message. One it was sure he would never forget.


	27. Chapter 27

“I think he might have spotted me,” Athos said as he hung up his hat. Aramis had whirled around, startled, with d’Artagnan and Porthos looking up at him from around the table. He hadn’t met them at the garrison as usual, having taken some time trying to throw Champney off his track and was just now getting home. 

“What happened?” Porthos asked with a frown.

“I don’t know,” Athos replied as he removed his doublet and weapons and joined them. “One minute I was trailing him, the next he was turning and looking right at me. It was like he’d known I was there the whole time. I’m not sure when he made me, but I’m fairly certain it wasn’t today.”

“That… is problematic,” Aramis said his voice somewhat shaky. If Pierre knew he was being followed then he knew they were on to them or at least Athos was. That meant he knew that he had told. Aramis had to swallow against the bile that suddenly flooded his mouth. Pierre knew he had told. He would make him pay for that. He…

“Aramis, breathe,” Athos said firmly as he took hold of his lover by the arms.

“Athos?”

“That’s it. Just breathe.”

“He knows,” Aramis whispered as he stared into his lover’s green eyes – green eyes that were calm. That calmness, more than anything, eased Aramis’ fears. If Athos was calm even knowing what he did of Champney, of what the man was capable of, then there was no need to panic. For above all else, Athos had vowed never to allow Champney to get his hands on him again and his lover would sooner die than break that vow.

“That’s better,” Athos said when he saw the fear in Aramis’ eyes slowly bleed away. The utter faith he saw in its place was staggering but he did not let that show. His lover was entrusting himself to his care. Athos was not going to let him down. 

“How, uh, do you think he found out?” d’Artagnan asked after a few minutes.

“I’m not sure,” Athos said as he led Aramis over and sat him down at the table before returning to his own seat. “Something must have tipped him off.”

“Or someone,” Porthos added darkly.

“Who?” d’Artagnan asked.

“Don’t know,” Porthos shook his head. “But we put feelers out. I did. With the Court. Can’t guarantee someone didn’t let something slip.”

“But surely…” Aramis began.

“Right amount of coin changes hands…” Porthos shrugged, ashamed to admit that the very people he had turned to for help might have sold them out. It was a possibility, though, and one he could not simply ignore.

“While I doubt that is the case, it is possible. Would Flea know if something like that had happened?” Athos asked.

“She should,” Porthos nodded.

“Would she admit it?” Athos pressed.

Porthos hesitated then. Would she admit it? She owed them, that much was true. But Flea was a prideful woman. For her to admit one of her own people had double-crossed them would not only be embarrassing but would make it seem as though she couldn’t control her own people. 

“To me, probably,” he finally said. “If anybody else was there, I doubt it.”

“I don’t want you going there alone,” Aramis said, his voice taking on a fierce edge. Pierre might not be willing to target Porthos but he still didn’t like the idea of Porthos venturing into the Court alone. He never did, even if the man did insist on doing it from time to time.

“He won’t go alone,” Athos told him. “Though he may need to meet with Flea alone once he’s there.”

“I suppose,” Aramis agreed somewhat mulishly.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were a trifle jealous,” Athos teased, trying to bolster Aramis’ mood a bit.

“More than a trifle,” Aramis said under his breath surprising them all. 

“You… you know you don’t have anything to be jealous of,” Porthos said, still somewhat thrown by Aramis’ reluctant admission. “Me and Flea we were over years ago. Besides…”

“Besides?” Aramis asked.

“Well, it’s not like…” Porthos trailed off again, unsure what to say. He didn’t want to put it into words, not truly. Putting it into words would make it real in a way it wasn’t quite yet. It would destroy the tiny bit of hope that he still stubbornly clung to. He wasn’t strong enough to let that go. He wasn’t sure if he would ever be strong enough.

“Athos, could you and d’Artagnan excuse us for a moment, please,” Aramis said rather formally. His eyes were glued to Porthos taking in even the tiniest detail, from the way he had leaned forward as if curling in on himself a bit to the way his hands trembled even as he clasped them together. He could tell that his eyes were firmly locked on the table unwilling, or unable, to look anywhere else in the room. His breath was coming faster, yet it was shallow, almost as if he was panting. If Aramis had to use but a single word to describe him it would be… bereft.

Aramis waited until Athos and d’Artagnan had left the room. Once they were alone, he rose and moved his chair next to Porthos. Reaching out, he slowly covered the bigger man’s trembling hands with one of his own. No matter what might have happened between them, he still hated seeing any of his brothers in pain. Seeing Porthos, who was always so strong, both in body and spirit, like this made him ache and he could not help but try to comfort him. 

“Porthos,” Aramis whispered, his hand tightening. He could feel the hands beneath his shaking and the injustice of it made him want to weep. Porthos should never feel such fear, especially because of him. “Why is it you are so sure we are lost to each other now? I know I have needed time. In all truth, I still do. But that does not mean… that does not mean I do not still love you. I never stopped loving you. Not ever.”

“Aramis…” Porthos gasped brokenly. He turned his hand and caught Aramis’ own, gripping it tight. When Aramis didn’t pull away, but instead returned his grip equally, he felt some of the crushing fear that had been plaguing him begin to lift. 

“You are my _heart_ , Porthos. That has not changed. Did you hurt me? Yes. But nothing in this world could ever make me stop loving you. Surely… surely you know this.”

“I don’t deserve…” Porthos choked out, unable to keep the words in. He did not deserve Aramis’ forgiveness. He knew he didn’t, but he would get down on his knees and beg for it all the same. He would gladly beg for any scrap of affection his brother was willing to give him.

 

“What? Forgiveness? All of the truly contrite are deserving of absolution. And I have never seen a more penitent man than you, my love.” As Aramis spoke, he used his free hand to gently card through Porthos’ dense hair. He felt his lover shudder beneath his touch but knew he meant no offense. Just the opposite, in fact. He was as a starving man finally given a morsel of food, so thankful for even the tiniest of crumbs. 

“I know I have still been keeping my distance,” Aramis said. “I am sorry for that. I… I still need time.”

“No, Aramis. No. You take the time you need. I understand that. I do. I swear I do,” Porthos rushed to say. He meant it, too. The last thing he wanted was for Aramis to push himself in this. 

“I also know it doesn’t help seeing me with Athos.”

“Now stop right there,” Porthos said, though the softness of his tone belayed the authority of his words. “What you got with Athos, I don’t begrudge you that. Not either of you. It makes my heart glad to see that. The Whelp, too. So don’t go trying to hold yourself back from them because of me. I won’t have it.”

“Alright, my love,” Aramis agreed, knowing it would be futile to even try. He simply could not deny what was between him and Athos and he could not bring himself to push d’Artagnan away like that again. “I still have no wish to hurt you, though.”

“You’re not,” Porthos said. “Not really. Not… not now that I know.”

“Now that you know?”

“Now that I know I still got a chance,” Porthos explained. “That you don’t hate me. That you still love me, even a little bit. I’ll wait for you to be ready for the rest of my life if I have to. Now that I know.”

“They’ll be fine,” Athos said somewhat more confidently than he felt as he and d’Artagnan sat down on the sofa. He knew the younger man was worried about Porthos. He was as well. While Christmas had renewed Porthos’ hopes a bit, they were still hanging on by tenterhooks. The wrong words by Aramis could easily dash them for good.

“I know,” d’Artagnan sighed. “Aramis knows his brother is struggling and he has always been a kind man.”

“But?” Athos asked, knowing there was more to d’Artagnan’s words than he was saying.

“But he has always been an honest one, too,” d’Artagnan admitted.

“Surely you have not lost hope for them, as well,” Athos gasped worriedly. He could understand Porthos growing a bit pessimistic about his future with Aramis but if d’Artagnan was beginning to feel the same then perhaps things were more dire than he had realized.

“No,” d’Artagnan said softly, not daring for his words to carry past the two of them. “At least not entirely. I know Aramis still cares for him but I ask myself if that caring will ever again be more than that of a shield-brother. I know Porthos will accept it, will accept him, in whatever form he must, but it hurts my heart to see them this way.”

“It hurts mine, too,” Athos whispered back. “But I think you are wrong. I don’t think Aramis sees Porthos as merely a shield-brother. I don’t think he sees him that way at all. If he did, he would not be so fearful of being close to him again. It is because he loves him, and loves him as much as he does, that he is so fearful. I know it doesn’t make sense.”

“It does,” d’Artagnan told him. “Sort of. His love for him, it makes him vulnerable to him. That’s the thing that makes him so afraid still. He knows that he’s got no defenses against him. If he lets Porthos in again, he will be completely at his mercy.”

“Yes,” Athos nodded soberly. “And that’s the part he can’t seem to get past.”

&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M

When Athos came around he wasn’t sure at first where he was. The opulent sitting room surrounding him was obviously someone’s home but his still groggy mind could not place whose it might be. The feel of cool air on his back made him tense as he realized several unpleasant things at once. First, he was bound backward over a chair with his back exposed, his hands and feet lashed firmly in place. Second, he was completely naked. And third, Pierre Champney was standing two feet away staring at him thunderously. 

Athos did his best to stare back, but bound as he was he had to crane his neck to even meet the man’s angry blue eyes. He had no idea what he was so enraged over but he knew it had to be more than the fact he had been following him. Athos knew if he was patient, Pierre would tell him soon enough. They always did. 

“How dare you!” Pierre snarled a moment later, striding forward and fisting his hand in Athos’ hair. He jerked his head back as far as it would go and spat in his face, smiling maliciously at the brief look of disgust in the man’s eyes. If he thought that was bad, he would soon learn otherwise. He would gladly redefine the meaning of debasement for him.

“You protect that _whore_ as if he was the bloody Virgin herself then have the temerity to come into my own home and threaten my wife. To lay your wretched hands on her! You’re an animal, the same as he is. And animals only respond to one thing.”

With his head still held back tightly, Athos saw Pierre motion. He had a moment to wonder if his throat was about to be slit when Marisol came sauntering into the room, riding crop in hand. He could see the stark bruises on her arms and wondered if that was what Pierre was referring to. If so, he didn’t know why the man was attributing such to him, but it didn’t matter. He doubted if he was going to listen to reason at this point anyway. 

As things went, it was better than a blade across his throat. He remembered the stark fear in Aramis’ eyes whenever he spoke of the things they would do to him, though. It wasn’t the pain so much as the abject humiliation they would put him through. At least that was what he told himself. The sight of the crop in Marisol’s hands was bringing back a host of memories, memories that he had spent months laying to rest, memories that he knew were still lurking in the dark recess of his mind just waiting for a chance to strike. He could feel panic welling inside of him and he had to fight to keep his breathing even lest he give away just how scared he suddenly was. That, he knew, would only make things worse for him. 

“Athos, is it?” Marisol said as she moved closer. She ran her hand down his bare back letting her fingers slowly trail over the various scars littering it and he flinched under her touch. “Your back is quite lovely. Isn’t it, Pierre?”

“Indeed. I can think of another back that would look equally lovely. Can’t you, my dear?”

“Oh yes,” Marisol replied hungrily. She leaned down and licked a long stripe down his bare flesh running her tongue over the scars. 

Athos couldn’t help but shiver in revulsion at the feel of her tongue on his skin. It felt obscene. Intimate in a way that was wholly uninvited. For the first time he understood some of what Aramis must have felt at these animals’ hands. To be taken against his will, made helpless and his body used for their enjoyment as if he were no more than a toy, it was the utmost in degradation. Not for the first time, Athos wondered how Aramis had managed to survive such constant abuse and remain sane. 

“You don’t seem overly worried for yourself, Monsieur,” Marisol purred as she ran the crop along Athos’ shoulders. “Or do you enjoy a bit of pain? Is that it? Are you secretly looking forward to this?”

“Go to Hell,” Athos said. He knew it was a mistake, baiting either of them, but he refused to be cowed. These people had tormented Aramis to the point where he literally could not fight back any longer. But he was not Aramis and they would do well to remember that. Even if the sight of the crop in Marisol’s hands did make his heart try to crawl up his throat.

“Now that wasn’t very nice,” Marisol pouted. With no more warning than that, she lashed Athos across the back as hard as she could making him cry out loudly. Squealing happily at the sound, she did it again, then again, leaving three dark red welts across his back. 

“Patience, Marisol,” Pierre laughed as Athos panted through his pain. “We don’t want to get started before the guest of honor arrives.”

Athos felt his heart twist at Pierre’s words. They could only mean one person. He fervently prayed that his lover remained safely at the garrison but this fiend had proven too adept at getting his hands on Aramis despite their every precaution. He knew, somehow, that would prove the case again. If Athos had been scared before, he was well and truly terrified now. 

“If you hurt him, I will kill you both,” Athos vowed.

“Did you truly expect me to do nothing after what you did to my wife?” Pierre retorted angrily.

“I never touched your wife. None of us did.”

“Bullshit! She said it was a Musketeer,” Pierre told him. “She said it was you. And for that, your precious whore will pay.”

“If you’re so sure I’m the one who hurt her then take your anger out on me,” Athos said, willing to do anything to protect Aramis from these people no matter how much the thought of being lashed again nearly made him quail. He would do it, though. He would gladly give his body over to these monsters if it would somehow spare his lover.

“Ah but that would be boring,” Pierre smiled. “And Marisol hates to be bored. In fact, we’ve been rather looking forward to seeing dear Aramis again. Marisol has missed him so. She’s wants to play and no one has ever played quite like Aramis.

“In truth, I’m looking forward to playing with him a bit myself. He screams are like music, but it is even sweeter when he begs, when he looks at you with true defeat in his eyes and begs you for mercy. I want to see that look again. I want to see him broken at my feet.”

“You won’t break him,” Athos told him, trying not to show the cold fear that had gripped him at Pierre’s words. As much as he wanted to believe what he said, he could not. Aramis had been through too much and Athos knew how close to the brink he was already. 

“Please,” Pierre said dismissively. “So much as the sight of me is enough to send him fleeing like a terrified child. You know, I have never partaken of male flesh before. Perhaps it is time I widened my horizons.”

&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M

Aramis had just called for a break in Francois’ training when Sebastian handed him a note. Aramis frowned when he recognized Michel’s signet and quickly opened it. Scanning it quickly, it directed him to come to the church at once, alone, and to tell no one. That last part made him frown but he trusted Michel. He doubted if the Darkness could get to the man inside of his own church and even if it could, this sort of subterfuge was not its way. 

“Sebastian, can you take over with Francois for today?” Aramis asked. “I need to run an errand.”

“Of course,” Sebastian said, clapping Aramis on the shoulder. Their new medic was coming along fine and he would be glad to help with the lad’s training.

With that, Aramis headed toward Saint Severin straight away. He wasn’t sure why Michel was summoning him but it sounded urgent. Perhaps he had discovered something about the Darkness. Perhaps it was not gone as they had all assumed. If that was the case... Aramis felt his heart beat faster at the prospect and he quickened his pace even more. 

Aramis was so caught up in his thoughts that he didn’t notice the two men loitering on either side of the alley next to the church. He had barely a second to realize his mistake before hands clamped down on his arms and jerked him into the narrow side street. 

He reacted at once, throwing his weight into the man that had grabbed him then kicking out at the other. He heard him grunt when his boot made contact and grinned before being slammed against the wall of the church hard enough to knock the air from his lungs. A sharp blow across the face stunned him for a second but he shook himself out of it. He was about to shove away when he felt the press of a pistol against his side and stilled.

“That’s better,” the man with the gun said smugly, his rancid breath making Aramis want to turn away. “You’re gonna come with us now, Musketeer. Nice and quiet like.”

“And if I refuse?” Aramis bristled. For a moment, memories of another alley and another man came surging forward but he shoved them back mercilessly. He needed to focus if he wanted to get out of this with his hide intact.

“Well,” the man paused as if thinking about it. “I know if we don’t show up with you within the hour the man who hired us is apt to send someone around to pay a visit to your friend the priest. Up to you whether or not that happens.”

Aramis glared at the man, barely keeping the snarl from his face. How dare these men threaten Michel? Had not his friend been hurt enough for his sake? “Fine,” Aramis spat. “Just who is your employer to wield such power?”

“Oh, you’ll find that out soon enough,” the man chuckled. “Now hand over your weapons.”

Aramis felt his stomach clench as another sickening sense of deja vu washed over him. He recalled the last time he had been forced to give up his weapons to protect Michel and just how poorly that had turned out for all of them. He could only pray it was not the same this time as he reluctantly unfastened his sword belt and handed it over. 

They ended up stripping him of his doublet and using it to cover the manacles they had chained his wrists together with for there was no way they could simply walk down the streets with a Musketeer in chains without somebody noticing. As they walked, Aramis’ apprehension slowly grew. He tried to tell himself that he was mistaken, that it was simply coincidence, but when they turned onto Rue Le Pince he couldn’t deny the truth any longer. 

“Finally figured it out, did you?” one of the men said nastily. He cuffed Aramis hard on the side of the head and shoved him forward, forcing him to keep walking.

&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M

“You’re dead. Both of you,” Athos swore. For his insolence, Athos got another searing lash across his lower back. He jerked at his restraints, testing them in the hopes that he could either break them or slip them but he quickly realized he could do neither. 

Pierre jerked Athos’ head back even harder making his whole body strain. He was about to reply when a commotion in the other room interrupted. “Well, it seems our other guest has arrived. Excuse me for a moment.” Releasing him, Pierre heading for the foyer leaving Marisol giggling beside Athos. 

Athos had never wanted to kill a woman more than in that very moment. Even his former wife did not rouse the hatred in him that this deranged bitch did. As he waited, nearly holding his breath, Athos could hear the sounds of a struggle in the other room. He prayed he was mistaken, that his lover had not fallen victim to this demented man again. When he heard Aramis cry out, however, he thought his heart might break. 

Out in the foyer, Pierre was grinning madly. The men he’d hired had a rather disheveled Aramis between them, his hands bound in heavy chains, his face marred not only by that unsightly scar but by the signs of their fists as well. One of the men held Aramis’ doublet and weapons while the other held the man by his hair. All in all, Pierre did not think he had ever seen a more delectable picture. 

Picking up the chain that bound Aramis’ hands, he yanked it hard causing the man to stumble. One of the men kicked him in the side of the leg, causing him to cry out and go down hard, his knees smashing into the hard floor with an audible crack as everyone laughed. 

“You two may go,” Pierre said as he tossed them a pouch. “I’ve got this under control.”

Once the pair were gone, he waited until Aramis was half way to his feet before jerked the chain hard again causing him to once more stumble and land on his knees. He had not cried out that time and Pierre frowned. He would see how long his stoicism lasted in the face of his lover’s bloodied back, for that was surely what the other man was. It would be interesting to see just what he could make each of them do in the name of protecting the other.

“Come on, whore,” Pierre said as he began all but dragging Aramis toward the parlor. “Marisol and I have a surprise for you.” He couldn’t wait for Aramis to see just who he had waiting for him. 

Aramis did his best to stumble along behind Pierre, knowing the man would simply drag him by his wrists if he did not. What he saw when he entered the sitting room, however, rooted him in place. Athos, _his Athos_ , was bound naked sitting backward over a chair, several bloody stripes already covering his back, as Marisol stood beside him beaming. 

“No,” Aramis gasped, the word punched from his lugs. He fell to his knees, the sight of Athos like this, bound and bloody at the hands of these fiends, stealing all of his strength. It was one of his worst nightmares come to life, to be forced to watch Athos being abused in such a way again. “Please, no.”

“Something wrong, whore?” Pierre asked, yanking the chain upward and forcing Aramis to look at him. The fear in his eyes was like an aphrodisiac and Pierre felt his cock stirring. To have this man, this _Musketeer_ , on his knees was like nothing else he had ever experienced.

“Let him go,” Aramis pled mournfully. “Please. He is nothing to you. Oh please, Pierre, let him go.”

“Why should we?” Pierre taunted, relishing the power he held over both men. “After all, Marisol seems to be enjoying herself.”

“I’ll take his place,” Aramis said at once, ready to agree to anything if it would spare Athos.

“No!” Athos shouted. “Aramis, no!” He got not further than that before Marisol lashed him across the back again causing him to cry out loudly.

“No! Stop, please,” Aramis begged. He tried to move toward them only for Pierre to yank him back causing him to land painfully on his knees once more.

Athos started to protest, to tell Aramis not to beg for him, only for Marisol to laugh and thrust a wadded up rag into his mouth and tie it into place, effectively gagging him. “No spoiling our fun,” she said.

“I’ll take his place,” Aramis said again as he looked up at Pierre with over-bright eyes. “I’ll do anything you want. You can... can use me... however... however...”

Athos saw the look of utter defeat in Aramis’ eyes and it chilled him to the bone. His lover would do whatever he had to in order to protect him, even if it meant giving himself over to these monsters once more. He should have never stopped d’Artagnan from killing these pigs as he wished. If he had let the boy do as he would, Aramis would not be begging these animals to abuse him for his sake.

“Tempting offer,” Pierre said, pretending to contemplate it. “I think first, I need to see what all the fuss has been about.” He moved in front of Aramis and let go of the chain. He fisted one hand in his hair and used the other to free his straining cock from his breeches. He smiled at the sick look that passed over the man’s face as he pressed the wet head of his cock at his tightly closed lips. It wasn’t that that turned his cock to steel, though, it was the look of hopelessness he saw there as well. That was what made him want to shove his cock down the whore’s throat until he choked on it.

“Suck it, whore,” Pierre commanded, tightening his grip on Aramis’ hair and pressing forward with his cock. He was going to enjoy this. The whore would never take another in his mouth again without remember this day.

_Suck it, whore. Suck it, whore. Suck it, whore._. The words ran over and over through Aramis’ head. Being forced to his knees and hearing those very same horrid words again was more than his mind could take. With a roar, he shoved Pierre back causing the man to stumble. Before he could right himself, Aramis whipped him across the face as hard as he could with the chains binding his wrists. Pierre went down without a sound as blood splattered the floor. 

The sound of Marisol screaming caused Aramis to whirl around and he moved toward her on instinct. She had time to turn toward the doorway then he was on her, spinning her around and wrapping the chain around her neck. He saw her disbelief as he stared into her eyes and tightened the chain even more. He smiled down at her when that disbelief turned to fear, not even feeling her talon-like nails digging into the backs of his hands as she fought him. Now it was her turn to know what helplessness felt like.

Aramis kept his eyes locked with hers as they grew wider in realization then began to dim. He put all of his strength into pulling the chain as tight as he could, determined to end this menace once and for all. When it was over and he was sure she was dead, he unwound the chain and let her lifeless body drop unceremoniously to the floor. As he did so, he dimly made out the sound of Athos’ muffled voice. Shaking his head, the haze that had taken over his vision began to clear and he hurried to his bound lover’s side. 

“Aramis! Are you alright?” Athos asked as soon as the he was free of the gag. He had seen Pierre go down and had watched impotently as Aramis strangled Marisol Champney to death. He had seen his brother lost to battle-lust many a time but he had never seen such a look come over him as he had then.

“I’m fine,” Aramis said, his voice surprisingly calm as he cut his lover free.

Once Athos was loose, he quickly dressed with Aramis’ help. His back wasn’t badly injured but after everything he needed Aramis as close as possible. When he checked the bodies just to be certain, Marisol was most definitely dead. Aramis had wound the chain so tightly around her neck that the individual links could be discerned. When they checked Pierre, however, Athos found him still breathing if barely. 

Without a word, Aramis drew the dagger from Athos’ belt. Holding Pierre’ head up by the hair, he looked him in the eyes waiting to make sure Pierre knew it was him. “I am no one’s whore,” he said as he slit his throat. Again, he watched as the light bled out of Pierre’s eyes then dropped his head with a thud. He wiped Athos’ dagger clean on the Pierre’s bloody shirt then handed it back to him before going through Pierre’s pockets in search of the key to the manacles binding him. 

It took a few minutes but they managed to free Aramis and find his doublet and weapons. After that they went through the house and removed any trace of themselves before leaving as surreptitiously as they could. Athos kept a tight grip on Aramis’ arm the entire walk back to their home. He could feel his lover shaking harder and harder with each step they took. Athos only hoped they made it home before Aramis lost what little composure he still had.

They were still three streets from their home when Athos caught sight of Porthos and d’Artagnan. He felt relief surge within him as he tightened his grip on his lover’s arm. “Porthos!” he called out loudly, trying not to let the desperation show in his voice. He knew he had failed when both his brothers whipped around toward him.

Porthos’ eyes grew wide at the sight of Athos nearly staggering down the street with Aramis. He glanced quickly at d’Artagnan and saw an equal worry in his eyes then the pair of them were racing toward their brothers. As they rushed closer they saw Aramis draw back and immediately slowed. Their brother’s too wide eyes spoke of fear and no small amount of shock.

“We need to get him home,” Athos said urgently. “Now.” 

“Come on,” Porthos said taking Athos by the arm as d’Artagnan moved to the other side of Aramis. Together they began walking the pair toward their home as quickly as the two men could manage and trying not to show how worried their slowed pace made them.

All three of them breathed a sigh of relief once they were safely back home. D’Artagnan sat Athos and Aramis down at the kitchen table while Porthos bolted the back door then hurried to fetch Aramis’ medical kit. He didn’t exactly think the man was up to using it but it was clear that Athos was hurt. He only hoped he and the Whelp could manage whatever it was on their own. He didn’t fancy having to send for a physician.

Sitting at the kitchen table, Athos finally relinquished his hold on Aramis’ arm. At his lover’s plaintive cry, he quickly took hold of his hand instead and quietly shushed him. His own back ached as his clothes rubbed against his wounds but he ignored it, pushing the pain down along with the memories that clawed at the edges of his mind. There would be time later to fall apart. Right now Aramis needed him.

“What happened?” d’Artagnan asked unable to keep silent any longer in the face of his brothers’ pain.

“Champney,” Athos answer succinctly.

“What?” Porthos gasped. He had come back into the room in time to hear Athos’ reply.

“He must have hit me over the head with something,” Athos said, squeezing Aramis’ hand harder as he spoke. “I came to bound naked to a chair. I’m unsure how he got his hands on Aramis but I can guess given his state.”

“How badly are you hurt?” Porthos asked as he set the kit on the table and pulled out a chair beside Athos. As much as he wanted to know what happened, Athos was obviously hurt. They could ask all the questions they wanted after he had been seen to.

“Not badly,” Athos told him. “My back…”

“What’s wrong with it?” Porthos asked.

Athos hesitated then for as much as those memories plagued him they plagued Porthos as well. “Perhaps it would be best if you sat with Aramis while d’Artagnan…”

“What did he do to you?” Porthos asked, his hands balling into angry fists and his voice thunderous. 

“It was not him. It was her. Marisol.” Athos felt his face heat as he recalled what had been done to him. It wasn’t all that much, really, but it was humiliating to admit to. To be subdued so easily and made into their plaything... It was no wonder Aramis had never told anyone of the things he had endured. 

“Athos?” d’Artagnan called softly when he failed to elaborate.

“She took a crop to me,” he said at last, spitting the words out while he could. “It’s not that bad. Really.”

“I’ll kill her,” Porthos growled, enraged at the very thought of Athos being hurt in such a manner again.

“Yes, well, I’m afraid Aramis rather beat you to that,” Athos told them.

“He killed her?” d’Artagnan repeated, shocked. From the condition he was in, he didn’t think he would have been capable of such.

“Both of them, actually.”

“How?” d’Artagnan asked.

“Not now,” Porthos said before Athos could answer. He was keenly aware of the fact that Aramis had not said so much as a word since they had run into them. “We need to get their injuries taken care of then we can talk.”

“Of course,” d’Artagnan said at once. “Is Aramis hurt?”

“Bashed up a bit from whoever delivered him to Champney but that’s all,” Athos said. “At least it’s all I know of. But he was in his shirt and I didn’t see any blood so I don’t think so.”

Together Porthos and d’Artagnan helped Athos strip down to his breeches. Aramis whimpered whenever Athos began to let go of him so kept at least one hand on him at all times. Porthos swore angrily when he saw the state of Athos’ back and wished for a moment that Champney was still alive so he could kill him. Then he remembered that it was the woman, Marisol, that had done this and felt a sick sense of relief at not having to find out if he could actually kill a woman in cold blood. Seeing the state of Athos’ back, he rathe thought he could.

Luckily for them, none of the wounds on Athos’ back were deep enough to need stitches. They cleaned and bandaged them and helped him back into his shirt. D’Artagnan had suggested simply leaving it off but Athos had said no. Now they were sitting on the sofa, Aramis practically in Athos’ lap, waiting for Athos to tell them the rest of what happened.

Slowly, it came out. Athos had not wanted to tell them all of it but they knew him too well and had insisted. Porthos had gone ashen when Athos told them of what Pierre tried to force Aramis to do. D’Artagnan had reached for him, taking his hand and squeezing it hard. Athos paused, giving Porthos a moment before telling them of Aramis striking out at Pierre. Both men seemed grimly satisfied, but when he told them of the way he had strangled Marisol, however, they had looked aghast.

“He smiled,” Athos said with a shudder. “He looked into her eyes as he strangled her and he smiled.” He could feel Aramis burrowing into his chest as he spoke and hugged him. 

“He…” Porthos began only to trail off, unsure what to say.

“I have seen him lost to battle-lust before but… never like this,” Athos said. “I have never seen him… enjoy it.”

“And why shouldn’t he have enjoyed it?” d’Artagnan asked softly. “They tormented him for years. He would have… They hurt _you_! I’m sorry, I know you don’t agree with me, but I’m glad he enjoyed it.”

“D’Artagnan, no,” Athos began. He had felt Aramis go still in his arms at d’Artagnan’s words and wondered at the affect they were having on him. 

“I would have enjoyed it, too,” d’Artagnan said trying to keep his voice soft so as not to upset Aramis. “If I had killed them, I would have enjoyed it, too, Athos. So don’t sit there and act like he was wrong for it because he wasn’t. Not in my eyes anyway.”

“I am not saying he was wrong,” Athos said choosing his words carefully. Whatever he said here would be taken to heart, by Aramis as well as d’Artagnan. “I am only saying I am worried about him. In case you missed it, he has not spoken. He has not said a word since he killed them actually. That, more than anything, is what worries me.”

“You hear that, Aramis,” Porthos said gently, hoping to prod their brother a bit. “Athos is worried about you. We all are. Can you say something? Just to let us know you’re okay?”

The room was silent for long seconds before a soft giggle broke the stillness. Aramis clamped his hand over his mouth at once. He had not meant to let that escape. But it was so hard to hold it inside. He knew his brothers were worried about him but they did not understand. How could they?

“Aramis?” Athos called cautiously.

“I’m free,” Aramis whispered in a soft, high voice after tentatively removing his hand. Another giggle escaped before he could stop himself and he quickly clamped his hand over his mouth again before he burst into laughter. 

Athos froze. He had never before heard Aramis giggle. It made him sound unhinged and he had to wonder if perhaps this had finally been too much. His dear brother had been through so much, endured trial after trial that would have driven a lesser man to his knees. Was it any wonder that his mind had been pushed too far?

Porthos, too, found the sound of Aramis giggling like icy fingers up his spine. It was so incongruous with what he knew of this man. Aramis prized life above all else. Even the lives of miscreants such as these. He would not have found joy in their deaths no matter what the Whelp said. 

“It’s alright,” d’Artagnan said as he reached toward Aramis and began to gently pull him out of Athos’ arms and into his own. “I think I understand now. It isn’t their deaths that are making you so happy is it? It is simply that you are finally free.”

“I’m free,” Aramis said again as if in awe. It was a feeling he had never thought to have. No matter what his brothers said, in his heart he had still feared. To finally have that fear lifted was so unexpected he did not know how to deal with it. 

“That’s right,” d’Artagnan told him as he held him. “You’re free. They can’t hurt you ever again.”

“No,” Aramis said, shaking his head as he smiled widely. “Not me. Not my family. Never again. It’s finally over. And you didn’t even hang for it.”

D’Artagnan huffed out a laugh and pulled Aramis in tighter at that. “I promised you I wouldn’t,” he said. 

Athos and Porthos looked at each other over the heads of the other two. They each saw relief reflected in the other’s eyes. Now that Aramis was coming around a bit, Athos rose. He knew he could put off the inevitable no longer. 

“Where are you going?” Porthos asked as he stood to follow.

“I need to send word to Treville,” Athos replied.

“Why?” d’Artagnan asked, having heard him.

“Because we left two dead bodies behind,” Athos explained. “When the servants returne they will find them. We can’t be positive none of them knew about any of this. Treville needs to know.”

“You’re not telling him Aramis…”

“Of course not,” Athos snapped then sighed. “I’m sorry. Of course I’m not telling him that. But he needs to know. I think he’ll help us if he can. If not, well, we’ll deal with that when we have to.”

Athos sent a terse note to Treville then he and Porthos sat down in the kitchen to wait. He was surprised when d’Artagnan and Aramis joined them a short while later. “We can see to this,” Athos said.

“We are in this together,” Aramis replied much more like his normal self though there was a light in his eyes that had not been there before.

“We’re not telling him you did this,” Porthos said, repeating Athos’ words from earlier. “You’ve been through enough, ‘Mis.”

“My brothers should not have to suffer because of my actions,” Aramis said softly.

“Please don’t argue this with us,” Athos said. “You said you trusted me in this. Do you still?”

Aramis looked at him for a moment then took a deep breath. “Yes.”

“Then trust me, love. I will see to it. Without anyone hanging for it. I promise.” How exactly he was going to keep that promise Athos was unsure but he would find a way. 

By the time Treville came to call Aramis was nearly going out of his mind. He kept imagining all of the ways this could go wrong, not just for him but for all of them. They were supposed to do this covertly, not slaughter them in their home leaving who knew how much evidence behind. Now they had to resort to involving the Captain, something else they had been loath to do.

When the sharp knock finally came at the back door, all four of them started. Athos shook his head at their uncharacteristic nerves and went to let the Captain in. One look at his stony face let him know that he should have gone to the garrison rather than letting the man come here for it was clear he was beyond livid.

“What the hell were you thinking?” Treville demanded as he rounded on the lot of them. He saw Aramis shrink back from him but in that moment he didn’t care.

“If you care to let me explain,” Athos began drawing Treville’s enraged attention just as he’d wanted. 

“This is what you were talking about, isn’t it?” Treville snarled. “This is what that damnable _boy_ couldn’t keep himself from doing! Now I’ve got a dead merchant and his wife to somehow cover up so he doesn’t end up on the wrong side of a noose!”

“Captain, this wasn’t d’Artagnan’s doing,” Aramis said, appalled that d’Artagnan was getting blamed for this. The lad wasn’t even there at the time.

“Shut it, Aramis,” Treville said without taking his eyes from Athos.

“But…” Aramis tried again.

“I said be quiet!” Treville roared then turned toward d’Artagnan. “Are you going to deny it, boy?”

“No, Sir,” d’Artagnan said looking Treville square in the eyes as he did. “You’re right. I killed them both.”

“He’s lying!” Aramis shouted not believing what d’Artagnan was doing. 

“D’Artagnan,” Athos said reluctantly. This was wrong. D’Artagnan should not take the blame for what Aramis did. Yet he knew they could not, would not, allow Aramis to do so. But to let the boy shoulder the burden for this was wrong. He knew that. Just as he knew they had no other choice. “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” d’Artagnan said as he turned toward him and offered a tiny smile. He could see the regret in Athos’ eyes but there was nothing to be done for it. The Captain was convinced it was him. He doubted he would believe Aramis even if he did confess at this point. “I’m sure. We both know it’s for the best. It’s the right thing to do after all.”

“Take him and get out of the city,” Treville said in disgust. “Tonight. Now, in fact.”

“Captain?” Athos frowned. 

“I said he was your responsibility. What he did, I lay at your feet just as much as his. Gather your things. You’ve got ten minutes then you’d better be on a horse or I’ll arrest him myself.”

“No, Captain, please,” Aramis said as he looked back and forth between their angry Captain and his brothers.

“I realize he was protecting you Aramis and that you want to protect him in turn but you can’t protect him from this,” Treville said, trying to calm his raging anger. “I shouldn’t even be trying but, God help me, I am.”

“We’ll go with them,” Aramis offered.

“No, you will not,” Treville said firmly. 

“Why not?” Aramis asked, dismayed at the thought of separating, especially now.

“Because I’m not convinced he’s not a danger to you in some way,” Treville replied honestly. “They hurt you before. I’m not willing to take a chance on that again.”

“This wasn’t…” Aramis tried again.

“The clock is ticking, gentlemen,” Treville said, forestalling him. 

In the end, they had no choice. Porthos helped the pair to hastily pack while Aramis could only watch helplessly, his mind still whirling over what d’Artagnan had done. Even more hard to believe was the fact that Athos had allowed him to do it. What if the Captain couldn’t fix this? What if they came for d’Artagnan after all? Would he even warn them before they came to arrest his lovers?

“Aramis, it will be alright,” Athos said as he came over and wrapped his arms around him. He could see the distress in his eyes and it tore at him. This was all his fault. He had vowed to keep him safe, to keep him out of Champney’s hands and he had failed.

“Why?” Aramis asked as he buried his face in the side of Athos’ neck.

“Because it couldn’t be you and Treville would never believe it was me,” Athos replied. “I did not intend to blame d’Artagnan but when the opportunity presented itself…”

“If I lose you…”  
“You won’t,” Athos vowed. “I love you. More than life itself. Remember that. This will not be forever.”

“And if they come for you?” Aramis asked. It was the question that burned within him the brightest.

“They won’t,” Athos whispered. “But if they do, we will run. And that happens, look for us at the ruins. No one would ever think to look for us there. But it will not come to that.”

“Do you promise?”

“I promise.”

&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M

Aramis let Porthos lead him into the sitting room after the others left. He tried not to think about Athos and d’Artagnan riding away in the night. He told himself that they were together, that Athos would keep them both safe just as he promised, but it was hard. He had been the one to kill Pierre and Marisol. It should be him that was forced to flee Paris like a common criminal, not his brothers. Not Athos and certainly not d’Artagnan who had not even been there. 

“Here. Drink this,” Porthos said as he pressed a cup of wine into Aramis’ hand. He started to sit down in the chair beside the sofa when Aramis’ free hand shot out and grabbed him, pulling him down onto the sofa beside him.

They sat together, shoulder to shoulder, Porthos nudging Aramis to drink the wine he’d given him. Once it was gone, Porthos took the empty cup and set it aside. “They will be alright,” he told him. “Athos will look after the boy.”

“They should be here,” Aramis said. “I’m the one that killed them. D’Artagnan is innocent.”

“I don’t think that matters all that much to the Whelp,” Porthos said. 

“Well it should,” Aramis said. “And it should matter to Athos. He should not put me before d’Artagnan. It isn’t right.”

“He loves you, Aramis. We all do,” Porthos shrugged. “I don’t think Athos meant to do it. It just sort of worked out that way.”

“It isn’t fair.”

“Life rarely is, especially to you. We shall weather this as we have everything else. Together.”

When they finally went up to bed, Aramis hesitated at the doorway to his room. The last thing he wanted tonight was to be alone. Yet he did not feel right placing such a burden on Porthos. Not after spending weeks keeping his brother at arm’s length. Not when all of this was his fault to begin with.

“What is it?” Porthos asked softly. He had seen Aramis hesitate on the landing and had stopped behind him. He wasn’t sure what was wrong. It was as if Aramis was suddenly unsure which way to go. That, of course, made no sense at all. 

“I… It’s nothing,” Aramis said, shaking his head and reluctantly moving toward his room. 

“I don’t think you’re being entirely honest, brother,” Porthos said as he followed him. He stopped in the doorway, not wanting to intrude on Aramis’ space. He had not set foot in this room since Aramis had claimed it for his own. On his darker days he wondered if he ever would again.

“It is nothing you need concern yourself with,” Aramis amended. 

“You are always my concern, but if you wish me to leave you be then say the word and I shall.” Porthos didn’t want to. He didn’t want to at all but he would if that was what Aramis wanted of him.

“No,” Aramis said quickly. He closed his eyes for a moment, steadying himself before opening them again and regarding his brother in the doorway. “I don’t want you to go. I… I don’t want to be alone tonight.”

“Oh,” Porthos said as understanding dawned. He cautiously stepped into the room, aware that he was crossing a very deliberate line between the two of them. When Aramis said nothing, merely sat on the side of the bed watching him, he breathed a sigh of relief. 

Looking about, Porthos spied a chair in the corner and pulled it up next to the bed. “Will this be alright?” he asked.

“Yes,” Aramis said, blushing a bit at appearing so needy even to Porthos. 

“Hey,” Porthos said when he saw the color staining his cheeks. “You been through Hell tonight, ‘Mis. If you don’t want to be alone, well, that’s just my good fortune because I couldn’t stand the thought of being so far away from you. Not right now.”

“I have no right to ask…”

“You have every right,” Porthos said firmly. “You’re my brother. No matter what else, you’re still my brother. Before all of… of this… if you needed me close you wouldn’t have hesitated to ask. Just because we were lovers for a time, that doesn’t change who we are deep down. I’m always gonna be your brother. I’m always gonna be here if you need me.”

“Porthos…” Aramis began, unsure what to say in the face of his brother’s earnest words. He could tell that Porthos meant them, truly meant them, and they eased him as much as they made his heart ache.

“I know I did some pretty bad things,” Porthos continued, his eyes cast down. “Some… some real bad things. That’s why you gotta tell me when you want me close. I can’t… I can’t just reach out like I used to. I don’t have the right anymore.”

“You still have the right,” Aramis whispered.

“When you can look me in the eye and say that with conviction then I might believe you mean it,” Porthos told him, shaking his head. “It’s okay. I know you want it to be true. I do, too. But it’s not and we both know it.”

“No, it’s not,” Aramis admitted, hating the truth of it. “Not yet.”

Porthos politely looked away while Aramis prepared for bed. When he turned back around his brother was resting beneath the blankets, his hands linked across his stomach. It was the sight of those hands, or rather wrists, that drew Porthos’ attention and made his blood boil. 

“He hurt you,” Porthos said, his jaw clenched in anger. It was all he could do to stop himself from reaching out and taking his brother’s hands in his own.

Aramis frowned, unsure what Porthos was referring to at first. Then he glanced down and saw the stark bruises on his wrists and understood. “I’m alright,” he said, shaking his head. “It’s just a few scratches and bruises. Athos… Athos was hurt much worse.”

“Athos’ injuries don’t negate your own,” Porthos told him. He met Aramis’ dark eyes, flinching slightly at the bruise he saw marring his cheek as well. “Where else are you hurt?”

“Oh love,” Aramis sighed. He reached toward Porthos, grasping his hand tightly when the other man reached back at once. “It is just a few bumps and bruises from the scuffle. I promise.” When he saw Porthos continue to look at him beseechingly he sighed again. 

“The scratches are from Marisol, from where she fought me. There’s the bruise on my cheek and another near the back of my head where one of them cuffed me. I have a few more along my shoulders and back from the fight in the alley when I got slammed up against the outer wall of the church. One of them kicked me in the side of the leg and I bashed my knees a few times. Other than the bruises on my wrists, most of which I got from strangling Marisol I might add, that’s it.”

“I wish I could get my hands on him,” Porthos growled.

“No,” Aramis said firmly. “I’m glad it was me. I’m am not gladdened by their deaths, per se, but I am still glad it was at my hands rather than one of you.”

“Yeah,” Porthos said. “You know what I think? I think it needed to be you. I don’t think you ever would have put this mess behind you if it hadn’t have been.”

“You think me killing them will somehow allow me to find closure?” Aramis asked.

“I hope so,” Porthos shrugged. He looked at their joined hands and gently stroked his thumb over the back of Aramis’, mindful of the scratches littering it. “I know if any man ever deserved to find some measure of peace, it’s you.”

“I am not so sure of that,” Aramis replied softly, his own eyes fixed on the careful movement of Porthos’ thumb along his skin. “I have done terrible things. I killed a woman with my bare hands. I…”

“No,” Porthos said, cutting off his words. “You were protecting yourself. And Athos. Don’t think we don’t all know how they got their hands on you.”

“It wasn’t Athos,” Aramis said. “I didn’t even know he was there until Pierre drug me into the room. It was Michel.”

“Ah,” Porthos said. “People do like using that priest against you.” He felt Aramis tense and squeezed his hand. “I didn’t mean it like that. Besides, if it hadn’t been the priest it would have been someone else. Probably your boy. Or Constance. Or one of us. Point is, he would have got his hands on you one way or another because you care about folks.”

“Does that make me a fool?” Aramis asked. “To care about others to the point of being so easily manipulated?”

“No,” Porthos shook his head. “It makes you a good man with a big heart and a generous soul. Something there is far too few of in this world. We are the ones who failed here, Aramis. We knew of the danger and we let our guard down. First Athos in being taken and the rest of us in not ensuring you were better protected. We may not have been able to keep him from taking you but we could have kept a better eye out, could have followed and kept what happened from… You should never have had to go through that again.”

“Perhaps,” Aramis said hesitantly. “But something good did come out of it and I do not mean their deaths.”

“Really? What?”

“I fought back,” Aramis said. “The first few times I was not in much of a position to fight back. After that, I was not able to. Pierre and Marisol had managed to render me completely incapable of fighting them no matter what abuse, what degradation, they put me through. This time, though, I fought back.”

“Because of Athos,” Porthos reasoned.

“No,” Aramis shook his head. “I was on my knees, begging for Athos safety. I was as broken and helpless as ever. It was not Athos presence that gave me the impetus I needed.”

“Then what?”

“It was what he said.”

“What did he say?”

Aramis turned away then, unsure how to respond. He didn’t want to hurt Porthos and he knew any mention of that episode still wounded him greatly. Still, for whatever reason, he needed him to understand. 

“He… he used those same words, you see. The same words that… that you did… that night. And my mind… my mind… it simply snapped. It could not take it. Not again. I would not be used in such a way again. I would die first. So I fought back.”

Porthos sat, stunned. Of all the things he had expected to hear, that was not among them. The thought of anything bringing that night to mind for Aramis horrified him. But for Champney to try to do the very thing to him that he had enraged him even as it made him want to curl up in a corner somewhere. He started to draw his hand back, not wanting Aramis to have to touch him but his brother clamped down hard refusing to let him pull away.

“No,” Aramis told him. “You are not running. You wanted to know and I told you. But no more running. No more hiding. I… I need you tonight, Porthos.”

&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M

Athos breathed a sigh of relief when the hulking shape of the maison finally came into view. He was exhausted after his ordeal and knew that d’Artagnan was likely just as tired. Treville had been quite clear, though. Either take d’Artagnan away at once or stand by and watch him be arrested. Athos was not about to let that happen, especially for something the lad had not even done. 

A pang of guilt shot through Athos at that thought. D’Artagnan was innocent. He had not even been at the Champney residence when the murders took place, yet he had allowed the boy to take the blame for them, his silence as damning as any accusation could be. Now the boy was forced to flee Paris for his very life and hope that Treville could somehow sweep this all under the rug. 

He knew d’Artagnan was alright with the way things had happened. To him, if one of them must suffer for this then he would gladly have it be himself. The rest of them didn’t quite see it that way, though. Especially Aramis. If anything happened to their youngest because of this Aramis would never forgive himself. 

“Thank God,” d’Artagnan sighed when they rode up to the barn. He handed Athos the saddle bags and shoved him toward the house as he took the horses. All he wanted at the moment was to lie down for a few hours. They could sort everything else out come the morning. 

Inside, Athos quickly unpacked what little they had brought and turned down the bed. Like d’Artagnan, he was more than ready for a few hours of sleep. When the younger man joined him they climbed into bed and wrapped their arms around one another. Even Athos’ nagging guilt wasn’t enough to keep him awake and they were both soon fast asleep.

When Athos awoke, he found d’Artagnan still curled around him, sound asleep. He was glad. It gave him a few minutes to think. As he replayed the previous day’s events, he felt shamed again about many things. First and foremost, he had failed to protect Aramis as he had promised. Not only that, he had failed to keep their youngest from being blamed for the Champneys deaths. Thinking about d’Artagnan, he felt a fresh wave of shame. For all their arguments and plans, when the time had come he’d found himself wishing he’d simply let the boy do as he would. It was disgraceful and he owed d’Artagnan an apology for even thinking such a thing. 

He knew it was likely just due to reaction - being taken, Marisol and her crop, seeing Aramis in chains. That didn’t make it any easier to stomach, though. He had come down the hardest on d’Artagnan about going after the couple on his own and when it came down to it, he found himself wishing for that very thing. It made him the worst sort of hypocrite. 

“What are you thinking about so hard this morning?” D’Artagnan asked, his head still pillowed on Athos’ chest.

“You mostly,” Athos replied then leaned down and kissed him. “Good morning.”

“Good morning. Now tell me what’s wrong.”

Athos managed to stall long enough for them to dress and adjourn to the sitting room. He hadn’t wanted to confess his shameful behavior in their bed. He knew d’Artagnan would probably not see it as such but he still did. Sitting down together on the divan, he took his lover’s hand and held it tightly.

“Whatever it is, you know you can tell me,” d’Artagnan said. “I will help you in any way I can.”

Athos squeezed his hand tighter at his words. While they were a comfort, they made the shame he felt that much worse. He had done wrong by his lover and to hear him offering to stand by him in his ignorance was wrong. 

“I am ashamed,” Athos said at last.

“Does this have to do with what happened with Champney?” D’Artagnan asked, wondering now if Athos endured more than a lashing at the pair’s hands. He said he had been bound naked after all.

“Somewhat. I have done wrong by you,” he said.

“How so?” D’Artagnan frowned, confused.

“First of all, I should never have let you take the blame for this. It was wrong. You were wholly innocent of what took place and to let you shoulder the blame in Aramis’ place... I should never have condoned it.”

“It was my choice,” d’Artagnan said. “I certainly wasn’t going to let Aramis take the blame and you were barely holding it together as it was after what they had done to you. And between me and Porthos, well, better me in the Bastille than him.”

“No,” Athos said, shaking his head angrily. “You are worth just as much as any one of us. It is not your place to sacrifice yourself for any of us.”

“But is that not what brothers do?” D’Artagnan asked him softly. “Is that not what we have done a hundred times or more on the battlefield? One of us goes down and another moves to cover him. One leaves his back open and another moves to block for him. How is this any different?”

“The battlefield is different. It isn’t deliberately stepping in front of a sword and letting it run you through,” Athos argued.

“Are you going to sit there and tell me you wouldn’t do that? You wouldn’t go that far? If Porthos fell, you wouldn’t step forward and take the blade between your own ribs to spare him?”

Athos sat, unable to reply. What could he say? The boy was right. If it came down to it, he would step in front of a blade or ball for any of his brothers without a moment’s thought. And that was exactly what d’Artagnan had done. He had seen the danger to Aramis and had stepped between him and the hangman’s noose. What the lad didn’t understand though, was that Athos had seen the danger, too, yet had stood by and watched as d’Artagnan threw himself on that blade for their brother.

“What?” D’Artagnan prompted. He had seen his words hit home for the man but something about them still did not sit right for him.

“I understand what you are saying and you are not wrong. But again I must say I did wrong by you for I saw the danger to him as well and I did not act.”

“How could you?” D’Artagnan asked. “Do you really think Treville was going to believe you did it? You are the most controlled man in the entire regiment. There was no way he would believe you lost your head and killed two people. You knew it then, too. That’s why you didn’t say anything. Other than letting him take Aramis, this really was the only way.”

“Alright,” Athos relented. He could see that d’Artagnan was determined not to blame him for his actions that night. In truth, what the lad said made sense. He hated it, especially when it left them exiled here so far away from their brothers, but there was nothing to be done for it now.

“Now what else is tying you in knots?” D’Artagnan asked, wanting to get whatever was eating at Athos out in the open so they could deal with it.

Athos looked at his expectant lover then looked away, debating as to whether to tell him or not. They had only been his thoughts, after all, but he had meant them. There, in that house, he had meant them. Considering how hard he had been on the lad about the whole thing, he couldn’t help but consider them a betrayal of sorts. One that d’Artagnan had a right to know about.

“It was when I was in that house... when they drug Aramis in... I...”

“Athos?”

“Aramis was begging them not to hurt me,” Athos went on, closing his eyes as he remembered. “I yelled. Told him not to. Marisol... she lashed me again and... and gagged me. Aramis... Aramis... he offered himself to them... said he’d do whatever they wanted if they’d just let me go...”

Athos stopped then and just breathed. He could still taste the gag in his mouth, still smell the scent of his own blood in the air. His stomach rolled as the memories ran pell mell through his head and it was only the feeling of d’Artagnan’s strong hand in his that kept him grounded in the present. 

Telling himself that he was not there, that he was safe at the maison with d’Artagnan, he was finally able to go on. “In those moments, bound and helpless, watching Aramis beg that pig for mercy knowing he would receive none, I wished... I wished...”

“You wished what?” D’Artagnan asked gently when Athos stopped, unable to go on.

“I wished I had simply let you do it,” he admitted at last. “I wished I had never stopped you. That I had let you kill them both and be done with it. Because if I had, I wouldn’t be bound over a chair watching Aramis begging on his knees.”

D’Artagnan stared at his lover agape. Of all the things he had thought to hear... He felt nauseous at Athos’ confession as anger, shock and betrayal all warred for dominance within him. He saw his lover open his eyes and look at him and the remorse he saw there only made him angrier. Jerking his hand away from Athos’, he shot up from the divan and began to pace.

“You arrogant, self-righteous bastard!” d’Artagnan shouted. “It’s all ‘no, d’Artagnan, you can’t do this. It’s bloody wrong’ until you fuck up. Then you’re whining and crying wishing I had taken care of it for you in the first place. Well it’s too fucking late for that now, isn’t it! And you know what, if I had handled it, we probably wouldn’t be here right now, sneaking out of Paris in the dead of fucking night. Do you know why? Because I wouldn’t have been caught, that’s why! I wouldn’t have been stupid enough to kill them in their own fucking house!”

D’Artagnan was so angry he was panting, his hands balled into tight fists. He knew if he didn’t put some distance between him and Athos immediately that it would likely come to blows between them. Without another word, he turned and stormed from the room. He stopped in the kitchen long enough to grab his doublet then he was slamming out the back door toward the stables. 

Athos sat unmoving on the divan. He had known his volatile lover was likely to be upset but he had not expected such a violent outburst from him. In hindsight, he supposed he should have. The lad was right, after all. If he had simply let him handle it as he’d wanted to they likely wouldn’t be here now. D’Artagnan might be young and hasty but he wasn’t stupid. He would have made sure his tracks were covered. Her certainly wouldn’t have left them lying murdered in their own parlor without bothering to so much as stage a robbery. 

Athos knew he wasn’t entirely to blame for how the pair ended up dead. He was, however, to blame for being careless enough to be taken in the first place. And he was certainly to blame for allowing them to let their guard down enough that Aramis was able to be taken without anyone noticing. If that had not happened, they would not be here right now. When it came down to it, d’Artagnan was right to lay the blame at Athos’ feet. Athos only prayed the young man could find it in his heart to forgive him. He supposed that would entirely depend on whether or not he ended up hanged. 

&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M

D’Artagnan started to saddle his horse then thought better of it as she snorted and stomped. He was much too angry and his horse seemed to sense it. Setting his saddle back down, he ran a calming hand down her flank before heading back out of the barn. He cast about for a moment unsure where exactly to go. A moment later he strode off across the yard toward the trees. If he took the shortcut, Aramis’ glade was only about twenty minutes away. 

Once there, he threw himself down where Aramis usually sat. It was about as far from the site of the brandings as possible which suited d’Artagnan just fine. As he sat, he didn’t even notice the coldness of the snow-covered ground. His mind was too occupied with thoughts of Athos to notice much of anything. 

After all of the fuss he had made, how could his lover have thought such a thing? What right did he have to long for him to have stepped in and taken care of things as he had wanted to from the very beginning? It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair to him and it certainly wasn’t fair to Aramis who not only had to endure that monster’s touch once more but had been the one forced to take not only Pierre’s life but that of his wife as well. 

Athos knew how much value Aramis placed on life. All life. For Aramis to be forced to act so heinously would forever be a stain on his soul that no amount of penance would absolve. And it was all Athos’ fault. D’Artagnan sighed and leaned back on his elbows. He wasn’t being fair. Athos hadn’t intended to be taken by Champney. It wasn’t altogether his fault, even if d’Artagnan did think the man had been somewhat careless in allowing it to happen. And he certainly hadn’t meant for Aramis to fall into their clutches. He was blaming him for the misfortunes of fate. And that simply wasn’t fair.

Still, if they had all just let him do as he had intended to begin with none of this would have happened. They would not have had to flee Paris leaving Aramis and Porthos behind to deal with all that had happened on their own. _That_ was one of things that scared him the most and, in turn, made him the angriest. It was the fact that Aramis and Porthos were back in Paris while he was here. He should be there, helping his lover deal with all that had been done, both to him and by him. Instead, Porthos was having to shoulder that burden alone while he was stuck hiding out here hoping to avoid the hangman’s noose. 

_Damn Athos!_ d’Artagnan thought angrily. Just as quickly that anger faded to be replaced by a sense of weariness. He didn’t even know why he was so angry with Athos. It certainly wasn’t over some wayward thought he had while bound to chair being lashed. The man had been hurt and scared and nearly going out of his mind with worry for Aramis. It was little wonder he had wished for some way to take it back, to make it all go away. 

&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M

Athos had no idea how long he sat staring into the unlit fireplace. He knew he needed to go find his lover and try to talk this out. He wasn’t at all sure d’Artagnan would let him, though. The lad wasn’t known for his calm, even temper nor his forgiving nature, though he tended to offer his forgiveness to his brothers ceaselessly. Even so, this time Athos had to wonder if perhaps he had not finally pushed too far. Had he finally given an offense that the lad could not forgive?

Knowing he would never resolve anything sitting there and that d’Artagnan was unlikely to return on his own, at least not before nightfall, Athos gathered his courage and rose. He checked the barn first and was relieved to see both their mounts still inside. That cut down the number of places the lad could have gone. In fact, there was only one likely place given the time of year and that was Aramis’ glade. 

Athos took his time on the walk. He wasn’t in any hurry to talk to his angry lover. He knew d’Artagnan had every right to be furious with him. He had betrayed him. Even if just in his mind. What’s more, the lad was right. Perhaps, if they had let him do as he would they would not be here now but rather home with their brothers as they should be. Instead, because of him, they were exiled here while Porthos was left to help Aramis pick up the pieces of his life on his own. Athos had never felt like more of a failure in his life. He had betrayed d’Artagnan and he had failed Aramis. It was no wonder the lad was so put out with him. 

&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M

D’Artagnan thought about returning to the house but he knew he wasn’t ready yet. Besides, despite the memories associated with the place, the glade was peaceful. He could understand why the place appealed to Aramis so much. A man could lose himself here for hours. 

As he reclined on the snowy ground, he let his mind wander. _Would he ever see his brothers again? Or would his last vision of them truly be looking down at them from the gallows?_ As he contemplated, his mind could not help but torment him with how that morbid fate might unfold. 

He saw himself being led to the gallows in shame, though he held his head high doing his utmost to ignore the jeering crowd. He felt his knees threaten to give out as he walked up the stairs but the men holding him tightened their grip as if accustomed to such things. He was oddly grateful. The last thing he wanted was to embarrass himself, and therefore his brothers, in his last moments. 

The thought of his brothers drew his attention to the crowd. He felt his heart twist painfully at the sight of the three men standing in the front, barely holding themselves back. Athos and Porthos stood on either side of Aramis, the pair surreptitiously holding their brother up. He could see the desolation in Aramis’ eyes and wished there was something he could do to ease it but he knew there was not. He only hoped that Athos and Porthos could keep him from doing anything untoward. His actions were already a black mark upon all the Musketeers, they did not need to make it any worse.

Once he was in place, the men holding him moved aside. He started slightly when the noose was fitted over his head and snugged into place. He saw Athos and Porthos grip Aramis tightly then and realized they were holding him back. He met his lover’s pain-filled eyes and shook his head. He had time to mouth a final ‘I love you’ before the floor dropped out from beneath his feet...

D’Artagnan started, jerking away hard and rolling into a crouch. He blinked his eyes and shook his head, trying to shake away the last remnants of the dream he had lost himself in. He saw Athos crouched down a few feet away and realized it was him that must have woken him. Taking a deep breath he slowly moved out of the defensive position he had rolled into and sat back down.

“Are you alright?” Athos asked cautiously. 

“Yeah,” d’Artagnan said shakily. “I must have been dreaming.”

“It did not seem like a very good one,” Athos commented.

“Hmm. No. I dreamt I was being led to the gallows. You woke me just as the floor gave way beneath my feet.”

“I’m sorry,” Athos said, turning away slightly at d’Artagnan’s words. “I would like to speak with you but if you do not feel up to it now I will understand.”

“‘Twas but a dream,” d’Artagnan shrugged, doing his best to appear unaffected. “I think the part that bothered me the most was how distraught Aramis was and the fact that I could do nothing to ease him.”

“It will not come to that,” Athos said. “Though I can understand if my words no longer carry much weight with you.”

“I always believe you, Athos,” d’Artagnan said. “I know you will always try to keep your word.”

“Yet there will be times when that is still not good enough.”

“We are but men. All we can do is try.”

“D’Artagnan, I am sorry. You do not know how shamed I am by what I did,” Athos began.

“Athos, stop,” d’Artagnan said. “You don’t need to apologize. You were hurt and scared. What does it matter if for a moment you wished that things had turned out differently? I’m sorry I reacted the way I did. I shouldn’t have. Forgive me, please. I just...”

“Just?”

“I’m afraid,” d’Artagnan said. “I am afraid we’ll never see the others again. I’m afraid for Aramis alone in Paris with only Porthos to help him. I’m afraid for Porthos who must try to help Aramis on his own when he is still in so much pain himself. I’m afraid of what might happen if they do come for me. For I know you will not simply stand aside and let them take me and I am terrified of what might happen to you. I am... afraid. And because of that, I lashed out at you.”

“Oh, love. We will see our brothers again. And Aramis will be fine. He grows stronger every day and Porthos will take care of him. They will take care of each other. You are right about one thing, though. If they do come for you, they are not taking you without a fight. I do not think it will come to that, though. At the very least, Treville will find a way to warn us first.”

“You seem so sure,” d’Artagnan said.

“I am. Of that, I am. He would not have sent us here like he did if he planned to simply abandon us to our fate.”

“I hope you are right,” d’Artagnan said then stood and reached toward Athos. “Come. Let’s head back to the house. It’s getting colder out and I’m hungry.”

“Alright,” Athos said allowing d’Artagnan to pull him to his feet. “But... are _we_ alright?”

“We?”

“You and I? I know you were angry with me and rightly so. And while things have been better between us...”

“Athos,” d’Artagnan said, cutting him off. “We are fine. We always were. Just because I was angry with you doesn’t mean there was anything to worry about. You’re my brother and my lover. That hasn’t changed and it won’t.”

Back in the sitting room Athos lit a fire while d’Artagnan watched from the divan. They had stripped down to just their shirts and breeches and he watched the play of his lover’s muscles as he crouched and bent to light the fire. He couldn’t help but frown at the sight of the bandages beneath Athos’ shirt. Even though the wounds were minor they were still an unwelcome reminder of a time all of them had struggled to put behind them. He knew these fresh wounds would be particularly bothersome to Athos. Not in any physical way but in the very fact that they existed even if they were unlikely to cause any additional scarring.

At the thought of scarring, d’Artagnan’s hand unconsciously went to his throat. He could well understand struggling with scars. He still struggled with the scarring around his neck from where Gaspar had tried to hang him. No wonder he had been so startled when Athos had woken him from his dream of the hangman’s noose. He had already lived through that once. He had no wish for his brothers to have to watch him do so a second time.

Still, it was the scarring about his neck that bothered him now. Even though it had faded and Athos no longer shied away at the sight of it, he still found it shameful. It was like a brand upon him, searing into his very soul. It was, in some small way, akin to the horrid mark Bathory had cursed Aramis with. He smiled to himself at that. They had fixed that, though. Aramis was now proud of the crest adorning his shoulder. 

“What are you thinking about?” Athos asked, breaking him out of this thoughts. He had finished lighting the fire and had come to sit beside him on the divan.

“Things. Aramis. You,” d’Artagnan said somewhat cryptically. 

“Enough about Aramis for now. He is in good hands with Porthos,” Athos said as he pulled him close. “Tell me what is on your mind. What things are you thinking of? What of me troubles you?”

“Nothing troubles me,” d’Artagnan replied as he snuggled down against Athos’ chest. He felt Athos start to argue and sighed. “I was watching you light the fire and admiring you.”

“What else?” Athos pressed. He knew his boy well enough by now to know when he was holding something back.

“Then I got to thinking about scars.” He felt Athos stiffen and laid a hand over his heart. “I know you say the ones about my neck do not matter to you yet I cannot help but feel that they must.”

“D’Artagnan...”

“Just because you have grown inured to the sight of them does not mean that you do not still find them grotesque. You have simply grown accustomed to them.”

“And does the sight of my back sicken you?” Athos asked, trying to think of some way to convince d’Artagnan that he didn’t find his scars disgusting. 

“No. But then it never did. I hate them, but only because they are a sign of the pain and suffering you were forced to endure. They have no more meaning to me than that. Mine...”

“Yours do not give me pause because of my former wife if that is what you are still thinking,” Athos said. “Yours give me pause because of what they mean. You nearly died. Another minute... less than that even, and I would have lost you forever. That is what your scars remind me of. That is what gives me pause whenever I see them. It is the memory of you hanging limp and lifeless from that tree.”

“I thought...”

“I know,” Athos said, carding his fingers through his hair. “And maybe, the first time I saw them, when they were still fresh they did remind me of her. But that was the only time.”

“I love you,” d’Artagnan said softly.

“I love you, too.”

They ended up on the rug in front of the fireplace. D’Artagnan paused when he took Athos’ shirt off, not happy about the bandages keeping him from his lover’s skin but unsure if he should remove them. Athos decide it for him as he drew a blade from the table beside the divan and quickly cut through them. His lover’s chest bared, d’Artagnan ran his hands over it, relishing the feel of furred skin covering lean muscle. God, he thought to himself, he could live to be a hundred and he would never get tired of touching this man. 

Athos bit his lip and moaned at the feel of d’Artagnan’s callous-rough hands running over his chest. The way the lad touched him always made his toes curl. It was a strange combination of confident and careful, as if he knew what he wanted yet was just the slightest bit unsure if he should take it or not. Holding himself over d’Artagnan, he leaned down and kissed him hard, driving his tongue into his lover’s mouth and laying claim to it, letting him know with his actions that his touch was more than welcome. 

In less time than they would have thought, the pair of them were naked. D’Artagnan had retrieved the pot of oil from the side table and Athos was braced on his arms again leaning over him. He had started to roll over but d’Artagnan hadn’t let him, not wanting to put any pressure on his healing back. Athos had subsided then, happy to remain between his lover’s spread thighs.

“What do you want?” Athos asked as he leaned down and kissed him again.

“I want you inside me,” d’Artagnan answered. It was why he had gotten the oil after all. It felt like forever since they had made love like this and he wanted it more than almost anything. 

Taking up the oil, Athos sat back and spread d’Artagnan’s legs a bit wider. He slicked his fingers and pressed two against his tight hole. He looked at his lover, waiting for his permission. When he nodded, he began to press forward, pushing his fingers in deeply. 

D’Artagnan groaned and fisted his hands when he felt Athos’ fingers breech him. It had been so long and Athos’ fingers felt so thick inside of him. It was just on the edge of too much but he refused to stop, spreading his legs wider instead and offering himself to his lover completely.

“You’re so tight,” Athos said as he sank his fingers in to the hilt. He held them there for a moment then began to move them in and out, stretching his lover’s body. He meant what he said. D’Artagnan felt incredibly tight on his fingers. He realized he should probably have started with one after so long but he found himself impatient. He needed this as badly as d’Artagnan did.

“Please, Athos. Now,” d’Artagnan gasped. He knew he wasn’t quite stretched enough but he didn’t care. He needed to feel Athos inside of him now. He couldn’t wait any longer.

“Alright,” Athos said somewhat shakily and took up the oil again. He slicked his cock, trying not to moan at the feel of his own hand. He wasn’t sure how long he was going to be able to last. He felt like he would spend the moment he got inside the other man. 

Moving into position, he pressed d’Artagnan’s leg back then began to push inside of him. They both moaned when the head of his cock finally breached him. He tried to still, to give the other man time to adjust, but d’Artagnan hooked his leg around behind him and drew him in. 

Both of them were panting by the time Athos was fully seated. He could feel his lover’s body clenching down on him and could see the telltale signs of pain in his dark eyes. Leaning down he kissed him again, then began kissing his way across his jaw to his neck. He didn’t stop until his mouth was hovering over the faint scars still barely discernible and he pressed a soft kiss on top of them.

D’Artagnan sucked in a breath at the feel of Athos kissing his scars. While his lover had touched them he had never kissed them before. It made desire slam through him and he arched beneath him as much as the man’s weight would allow. 

Athos felt d’Artagnan’s body start to relax and began to move. He kept kissing and sucking all along his lover’s neck, especially his scars. He could feel the effect it was having and was a bit surprised by how strong it was. As it was, Athos had to actually hold him in place somewhat as he moaned and rocked beneath him. 

All too soon Athos felt his release approaching. He could feel d’Artagnan’s own hard cock rubbing a sticking trail between their bodies. “I’m going to spend,” Athos warned, wanting his lover to spend with him.

“Yes,” d’Artagnan gasped, his own body on the brink of release as well.

Hearing the desperation in his lover’s voice was enough for Athos. He thrust forward a few more times then stilled as he spilled his seed inside his lover. D’Artagnan felt the moment when Athos found his release. He could feel his lover’s cock pulsing inside of him. With a cry, he began to spend as well, his seed striping his stomach and smearing wetly between them.

Later that night as they lay in bed, d’Artagnan snuggled against Athos’ side. It wasn’t that he was feeling particularly needy, just that it had been far too long since they had come together in such a way. Aramis wasn’t the only one that he despaired of ever making things right with. He had been equally worried about his relationship with Athos. He knew it was foolish. Athos had, after all, declared to both him and Porthos that their actions would not drive him from their sides. It was still difficult to accept at times, though. 

“What is it?” Athos asked. 

“Nothing,” d’Artagnan chuckled. He didn’t know how he did it, but Athos always seemed to know when something was weighing on his mind.

“And which nothing would that be this time?” 

“It really is nothing,” d’Artagnan replied with a snort. “But if you must know, I was simply thinking about us and how good it felt to be close to you like this again. It has been awhile.”

“I’m sorry,” Athos said. “I had not meant to act as if you were of no importance.”

“I know that,” d’Artagnan whispered. “I know you love me. I knew then as well. It’s just nice to have the physical reminder once more.”

“I didn’t mean to neglect you,” Athos said contritely.

“You didn’t,” d’Artagnan told him. “Besides, Aramis needed you. As did Porthos. I knew you were at hand if I had need of you. That was enough.”

Athos sighed. “One day I pray you will no longer be forced to settle for ‘enough’.”

“Just as one day I hope you will understand that simply walking by your side is enough.”

&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M

Aramis awoke to the feel of a hand gently holding his own. He knew without even opening his eyes that the hand belonged to Porthos. The knowledge made him smile softly and he held the hand a bit more firmly, enjoying the feel of it in his own. As he held Porthos’ hand he thought about how safe he felt. He knew that part of it had to do with the fact that Pierre and Marisol were no longer a threat to him, but that was not the whole of it. In fact, that was not even the bulk of it. Had it been d’Artagnan with him, or even Athos, he knew he would not have felt as safe as he did right now with Porthos by his side. 

As Aramis lay there pondering, he wondered just what his discovery meant. He had been sincere when he told Porthos he was his heart. He had been and always would be. Even if he wasn’t quite ready to resume their physical relationship yet, he did love Porthos dearly. Nothing would ever change that. Perhaps this was simply another facet of that. Or perhaps this was a sign that he was healing, that he was finally getting past all that was done to him. He was not sure. He would need to think on it a good deal more as well as pray on it. For now, however, he was simply happy to be with his brother and bask in the feeling of safety he had been denied for so long.

Shifting on the bed, Aramis pulled Porthos’ hand toward him, gripping him a bit tighter. As he did so, he felt a ring on his brother’s hand that he had not noticed before. Frowning slightly, he lifted his hand and examined it. What he saw tied his stomach in painful knots. 

There, on Porthos’ hand, was his ring. The one Porthos had given him. The one that, as far as he knew, had resided on the mantel above the fireplace. When had his brother taken it down? And what did it mean? Did Porthos, like d’Artagnan, think he no longer wished to wear his token? Had Porthos given up on them after all? 

“What’s wrong?” Porthos asked. He had woken when Aramis lifted his hand and had not missed the stricken look that had come over his face.

“My ring,” Aramis said sadly. “You are wearing it.”

“Well, yeah,” Porthos said a bit self-consciously. He had taken it from the mantel a few days ago unsure if his lover would ever want it back. Aramis’ words of the day before had gone a long way toward chasing those fears away but Porthos knew they had far to go to get back to where they were. If that was even possible after everything they had been through.

“Do you... do you not...” Aramis began only to trail off, unable to say the words aloud, too afraid of what Porthos’ answer might be. After keeping such a distance from the man for weeks on end, he would not blame him for growing weary of it all.

“Do I not what?” Porthos asked gently. He could see the genuine fear in his brother’s eyes and ached to soothe him.

“Do you no longer wish me to wear it?” Aramis asked, all but holding his breath as he waited for the answer.

Porthos hesitated for a moment as he looked into Aramis’ worried eyes. “In all truth,” he said, “I just want my best friend back.” 

“Porthos,” Aramis said as everything finally clicked into place for him. “You never lost him. Do you wish... that is... do you think we could... start again?”

Porthos stared at his brother, shocked by his offer. As much as he wanted to take him up on it, to say yes, he could not. He knew Aramis and he could see the uneasiness that even the suggestion of such caused him. For that reason alone, Porthos held himself back.

“You have no idea how badly I want to say yes,” Porthos finally replied. “But I know you are not ready. Please, Aramis, please do not push yourself. Not in this. Not for me.”

“I would do anything for you,” Aramis told him. “I love you. You are my heart. But I am not giving up on us so you had better take very good care of that ring.”

“You are my heart as well,” Porthos said as he drew Aramis’ hand to him and kissed it. “And it’s not that I don’t want my lover back, but just having my friend by my side again, that is more than enough. Don’t worry, though. Your ring will be right here waiting for you. Just like me.”


	28. Chapter 28

The days passed slowly in Paris.  Aramis and Porthos fell into a routine of sorts with neither man venturing far from the other’s side.  Aramis, though somewhat reluctant, even allowed Porthos to begin helping him in the kitchen.   Treville assigned them to simple patrols, unsure of what threat might still be lingering for Aramis.  Working so closely once more, it was easy to slip back into the familiar routine of having each other’s back.   
   
At home, they spent the long, quiet nights talking as they had not done in months.  They spoke of everything from the most inconsequential of garrison gossip to the challenges that still lay ahead of them.  Both men had been reluctant to speak of certain things, fearful of riling up ghosts barely laid to rest, but they had chipped away at it slowly, each conversation bringing them closer to the heart of the matter.  
   
To Aramis, it felt like things had before.  Before the ruins, before the maison, simply before.  It felt good and in a way he not thought to ever feel again.  Innocently.  Without the weight of more hanging over his head.  Not that he regretted the love he had found with any of his brothers yet he could not deny how nice it was to simply be together like this again.  
   
And while to Aramis this new-found closeness felt good, to Porthos it felt divine.  For no matter what the others had said, what Aramis himself had said, he had thought this all but lost to him.  To have this back once more, to have Aramis by his side again, not only standing by him but _trusting_ him, was a blessing he did not feel worthy of yet he was thankful for it all the same.  
   
“I feel like I don’t deserve this,” Porthos said seemingly out of the blue as they sat together on the sofa in front of the fire.    
   
“As I believe you once told me, you deserve every good thing I can give you,” Aramis replied as he sipped his wine.    
   
Their hands were linked between them and he couldn’t help but glance at them now, Porthos’ broad, strong hand holding his finer-boned one.  A few days ago, his brother’s grip would have been tentative, unsure of its welcome.  Now, Porthos held onto him with the confidence that only years of brotherhood could create.    
   
“Do you regret it?” Porthos asked after a moment.  It was clear from the practiced ease with which he said the words that he had been running them through his head for some time before speaking.  
   
“Regret what exactly?” Aramis asked.  
   
“This.  All of this,” Porthos said gesturing with his cup of wine.  “Taking us as your lovers.  Seems like we’ve brought you nothing but heartache the lot of us.”  
   
“No, I don’t regret it,” Aramis told him.  “And you have brought me more than heartache.  Yes, these last months have been difficult but even knowing how it would all turn out, I would not change it.  Having you for my lover, even for a short while, was worth all of this and more.”  
   
“You sound so sure.”  
   
“That’s because I am.  But what of you?  Do you have regrets?  Do you wish we had never crossed that line now?”  Aramis tried not to fidget as he waited for Porthos’ answer.  He was glad they were being honest with each other but he wasn’t sure he was ready to hear Porthos tell him what they had shared had been a mistake.    
   
“My only regret is that I hurt you,” Porthos told him.  “I will carry that with me to the grave.  But loving you, I could never regret that no matter the cost.”  
   
&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M  
   
The days passed slowly at the maison too.  Athos kept d’Artagnan close, worried about how the separation from the others might affect him.  If he was being completely honest, he wanted the lad close for his own sake, as well.  Too much had happened for him to be comfortable with any of his brothers out of his sight.  While he had no choice with Aramis and Porthos, he could ensure that d’Artagnan remained safe.  It was the least he could do after failing Aramis so dismally.    
   
“It will be alright,” d’Artagnan told him as he snuggled up against him on the divan.  He knew that Athos was taking what had happened in the Champney house hard.  He felt like he had let Aramis down both in ensuring his safety and in taking care of the matter altogether.  While he tried to reassure him that wasn’t the case, he understood that the only one likely to be able to do that was Aramis himself.    
   
“I know,” Athos said though there was little conviction to his words.    
   
“You’ll see.  When we return to Paris everything will be fine again.”  
   
“Let us hope,” Athos said, refusing to offer platitudes.  They both knew what they were facing.  Talking about it ceaselessly would do them little good.    
   
“What is it you’re so worried about?” d’Artagnan asked.  He knew it was more than simply the prospect of the hangman’s noose.    
   
“Aramis,” Athos sighed.    
   
“What about Aramis?”  
   
“How he acted in that house, it was not him,” Athos tried to explain.  “And I find myself wondering if perhaps the Darkness is not as gone as we had all hoped.”  
   
“It wasn’t the Darkness that drove Aramis to act as he did,” d’Artagnan said.  
   
“You did not see…”  
   
“I didn’t have to,” he told him firmly.  “It wasn’t some evil spirit that pushed Aramis to kill those monsters.  I don’t know whether it was the fact that they were threatening you or if there was some other impetus.  But what Aramis did, he did of his own volition.  Was it a shock to see Aramis of all men acting so?  Of course it was.  But even Aramis has his limits, Athos.  As the Champneys discovered, much to their detriment.”  
   
“Perhaps you are right,” Athos said, mulling over d’Artagnan’s words.  “On the one hand, I hope you are.  Yet on the other, I worry for how Aramis will handle what he did once the shock of it finally wears off.”  
   
“That is what he has us for,” d’Artagnan offered.  
   
“I suspect he will be looking to his Master’s guiding hand once we return.  I’m rather surprised he hasn’t already with everything that has happened.”  
   
“Why would he?” d’Artagnan frowned.    
   
“Surely you don’t mean that,” Athos scoffed.  “You know as well as I the peace you have brought him.  When his life is in turmoil you help him find his center again.  He’s going to need that.”  
   
“You give me far too much credit.  Besides, I do not believe Aramis desires such a relationship between us anymore.”  
   
“Now you’re being stubborn.  Didn’t he already have this discussion with you?”  
   
“Yes,” d’Artagnan smiled wistfully.  “But just because he is not ready to give up the safety net of being able to call me Master does not mean he actually still wants to do so.  He is just not ready to let it go yet.  In time, he will be.”  
   
“I disagree,” was all Athos said, though he could not argue the lad’s logic.  It very well could be that Aramis was simply not ready to let go of the idea of his Master yet.  Athos fervently hoped that wasn’t the case.  What the pair shared was beautiful.  He didn’t want to see that destroyed for them.  
   
“I do have something else I would speak to you of if you’ve a mind,” d’Artagnan offered hesitantly.  
   
“Tell me,” Athos said.   He could feel the sudden tension in the younger man and tightened his embrace.    
   
“Do you recall the fantasy I told you of?” he asked shyly.    
   
Athos cast his mind back, thinking.  The first thing that came to mind was the dream he had shared with them but he knew that wasn’t what he was referring to.  Then he remembered.  “That time in Treville’s office?” he asked.    
   
“Yes,” d’Artagnan replied breathlessly.  
   
“Are you certain you still want to?  I am the reason you are currently an exile, you know.”  
   
“I’m sure.”  
   
“Very well.  Let me think on it for a little while.”  
   
&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M  
   
“Come!” Treville barked out when a sharp knock sounded on his door.  He looked up as the pair of Musketeers he had sent to investigate the Champney estate came in.  He tried not to tense as they stood in front of his desk.  Thankfully, he detected no air of urgency about them and motioned for them to give their report.  
   
“We investigated the scene,” the Musketeer reported.  “None of the servants knew anything.  Whoever killed them was strong, that much was clear from the strangling of Madame Champney.  From the state of the parlor, it looks as though someone was being held there against their will, possibly more than one person as we found both bindings made of rope and shackles.”  
   
“Why would a merchant and his wife be holding someone prisoner?” Treville asked.  
   
“Perhaps they were the prisoners,” the other Musketeer suggested.  “Someone could have broken in and subdued them.”  
   
“When all of their servants were conveniently gone?” Treville asked.  “Did either of the Champneys show any sign of being bound?”

“No, none.”  
   
“It would appear our innocent merchants were not quite so innocent after all,” Treville said.  “Do you have any other leads?”  
   
“No, Sir.  Whoever did this managed to cover his tracks.”  
   
Treville dismissed the pair and sat back.  He had little doubt as to who at least one of the prisoners was, but why would a merchant kidnap a Musketeer, much less a pair of them?  None of this was making sense.  D’Artagnan might be a hot head but he didn’t think him capable of strangling a woman in cold blood.  Not as brutally as Marisol Champney had been strangled.  Still, if Aramis had been in jeopardy Treville thought the boy just might be up to it.    
   
&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M  
   
The Darkness hovered like a pall over the Musketeer garrison.  It had been surprised when the Seminarian had snapped and murdered the couple.  At first, it had been enraged then it had been almost gleeful as it watched him lose control.  It hadn’t even had to interfere.    
   
Now, not only where they split up but the guilt of what he had done was slowly growing within him.  Soon he would not be able to contain it and would be forced to confess his sins.  The only thing better would be if his precious Master ended up hanging for it in his place.    
   
That was an interesting idea.  The one called Treville was already furious over what they had done, blaming the boy without pause.  It wouldn’t take much to stoke the embers of that anger, to fan it into a blaze once more.  It would not be difficult to influence Treville to let the boy take the fall and be done with it.  After all, who would he rather lose, a barely trained boy or one of his best men?  
   
The Seminarian himself was a veritable powder keg of emotions, whipsawing back and forth from relief to fear to anger and back again.  While it still could not penetrate the house fully, the protections the old priest had laid down were starting to wane, allowing it to slip inside here and there.  To have him so close was tantalizing and it wanted to sink its black claws into him and show him what true fear was.  Even its patience was wearing thin but it knew it would not be long now.  Soon, Aramis would be its for the taking.    
   
&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M  
   
As the days turned into a week, Aramis began to grow tense.  Porthos feared at first that he was somehow the cause but he quickly realized it was something else.  Knowing better than to let things fester, he waited until they were home for the night before approaching his brother.  
   
“Whatever it is, you can tell me,” Porthos began as they finished the last of their dinner.    
   
“Whatever are you talking about?” Aramis quipped, though the sudden sharpness of his eyes betrayed his words.    
   
“What’s bothering you,” Porthos forged on.  “You’ve been tense as a cat for the last couple of days and it’s only getting worse.  I can’t help you if I don’t know what the problem is.”  
   
“There isn’t any problem,” Aramis sighed and shoved his plate away.  

“I don’t know that I believe you, brother,” Porthos pressed carefully.    
   
“It isn’t you,” Aramis clarified at once, not wanting Porthos to think that he had done anything to upset him.  His brother had been nothing but patient and understanding with him and he was beyond grateful for it.  No, Porthos wasn’t the problem.    
   
“So who is it?” Porthos asked.  
   
“Athos,” Aramis spat.  
   
Porthos stared at his brother, taken aback.  He had not heard Aramis speak so harshly of Athos in months, since long before this mess began.  In fact, he couldn’t remember the last time he had heard Aramis speak of him so.    
   
“I don’t understand,” Porthos said finally.  “What about Athos?”  
   
At Aramis’ request, they waited until the table was cleared and they were once more side by side on the sofa.  Aramis’ grip on Porthos’ hand was tight, too tight he knew but he could do nothing about it.  He could feel his anger growing once more and he fought to keep it at bay.    
   
“Now tell me what about Athos has got you tied in knots,” Porthos prompted.  
   
“I simply cannot believe he did this,” Aramis said, his temper quickly getting the better of him.  “How could he just let d’Artagnan take the blame for this?  The boy wasn’t even there.”  
   
“We talked about this, ‘Mis,” Porthos began only for Aramis to cut him off.  
   
“D’Artagnan is no less important than me!” he nearly shouted.  “Porthos, he’s so young.  He’s barely even gotten to live and now…”  
   
“Hey, nothing is going to happen to d’Artagnan,” Porthos soothed.  He pulled Aramis against his side and wrapped his arm around him.  “Athos will take care of him.”  
   
“Athos is the reason he had to run in the first place.  What happened to all our plans?  This was the very thing we were trying so hard to avoid and Athos… Athos just handed him over like it was nothing.  Like _he_ was nothing!”  
   
“He didn’t mean it like that.  You know he didn’t.”  
   
“Whether he did or not, he still achieved the same outcome.  D’Artagnan is in hiding and Athos with him, all for something I did.”  Aramis seemed to deflate at that.  His hand rubbed at the brand on his shoulder absently as his anger slowly bled away.    
   
“This won’t be forever,” Porthos said.  “We’ll get our brothers back.  It’s going to be okay.  I promise.”

“I certainly hope you are more adept at keeping your promises than Athos has proven of late,” Aramis said darkly.  
   
&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M  
   
“Are you certain you wish to do this?” Athos asked one final time as he finished cleaning his boots.    
   
“Yes. I trust you, Athos,” d’Artagnan told him from beside him on the divan.  He didn’t blame him for being leery. So many things had gone wrong for all of them of late. He was not sure they could weather yet another. However, he trusted his lover and needed him to know that.   
   
“Very well,” Athos said.  It wasn’t that he minded giving d’Artagnan what he asked for, he was simply worried.  He knew how he could be, especially at times like these, and the others were not here to ensure he did not go too far.  
   
“If you don’t want to do this…” d’Artagnan began, not wanting to push if this was something the other man did not want.  
   
“Be quiet, boy,” Athos said putting just a hint of bite into his words.  He saw d’Artagnan snap his mouth closed at once and nodded, pleased.  “Your fantasy will begin when I tell you to strip.  It will not end until I say it does.”  
   
“Yes, Sir,” d’Artagnan replied.  
   
“Captain,” Athos corrected.  “During the course of this you will refer to me as Captain.  Do you understand, boy?”  
   
“Yes, Captain,” d’Artagnan said, his breath coming quicker as Athos began laying out what was going to happen.  
   
“Good boy,” Athos said.  He noticed the way d’Artagnan flushed at the praise and made note of it.  He recalled what he had told them before, that unlike him he derived no true pleasure from humiliation but that it did help get him into the mindset he needed to be in.    
   
“Shall I give you an idea of what is going to happen to you?” Athos asked silkily as he eyed his lover up and down.  At d’Artagnan’s jerky nod he went on.  “You are going to crawl on your hands and knees, naked, to the barn.  There I am going to use you however I see fit until I’ve had my fill of you.  If you spend without my express permission, you will be punished.  Harshly.  Do you understand?”  
   
“Yes, Captain,” d’Artagnan said, the picture of himself crawling naked beside Athos, out in the open where anyone might see, sending a bolt of desire straight through him.  

“Then what are you waiting for?  Strip!”  
   
D’Artagnan rose from the divan and began to undress quickly.  Once he was naked, he stood with his hands at his sides and tried not to fidget as Athos made a slow circle around him.  Suddenly, his lover’s hand shot out and fisted in his hair, jerking his head back hard.  
   
“Have you forgotten your place already, boy?” Athos purred, his lips brushing the shell of d’Artagnan’s ear as he spoke.  
   
“No, Captain,” d’Artagnan gasped as Athos’ hand bore him down onto his knees beside the man.    
   
Keeping one hand fisted tight in d’Artagnan’s hair, Athos quickly rooted through the pile of discarded clothing.  He drew out one of the man’s belts and looped it around his neck in a makeshift leash.  He kept it loose so there was no danger of it chafing and leaving a mark.  Satisfied, he stepped back and gave it a quick tug.  
   
D’Artagnan had to bite his lip to keep from moaning as he moved onto his hands and knees.  He felt humiliation roll through him in a wave and had to concentrate to keep from swaying with the force of it.  He had led Aramis around by a leash a few times, relishing the control as much as Aramis did the ceding of it.  He had never expected to feel so strongly about being on the other end of things, however.    
   
Athos could see that d’Artagnan was struggling with everything he was feeling and gave him a moment to gain his bearings.  Once he appeared steady, he gave the lease a sharp tug.  “Come,” he said tersely as he began walking toward the kitchen and the door leading toward the barn leaving him no choice but to crawl after him if he did not want to be dragged.    
   
Athos took his time walking from the house to the barn.  He wanted to give his lover time to explore his submission and the feelings it was evoking within him.  He could see the telltale blush that ran all the way down his shoulders and back and grinned.  It seemed his boy was finding this more affecting than he had anticipated.    
   
“I wonder what Aramis would think if he saw his Master panting like a bitch in heat at being walked about on a leash,” he commented as they slowly made their way across the yard.  “Would he find your willing debasement mortifying, do you think?  Tell me, boy, how does it feel to realize what a little slut you truly are?”  
   
D’Artagnan couldn’t stop the whimper from escaping him.  Athos’ words slammed into him, driving his desire steadily higher.  He could feel his hardness swaying between his legs, heavy and full already.  Athos was right.  He was a slut.  Aramis only ever did this from a place of inner peace and utmost trust.  Yet here he was all but drooling for the chance to crawl and beg at Athos’ feet.  
   
When they finally reached the barn, Athos led d’Artagnan over to the center post.  “Stay,” he said as he gave a leash another sharp tug before letting go of it.  He quickly crossed to the far wall and looked it over, searching for what he would need.  Once he had everything, he crossed back over to d’Artagnan pleased to see he had not moved.  
   
“Good boy,” he praised as he sank his hand into his hair once more.  He pulled him back onto his knees and maneuvered him so that his back was pressed firmly against the center post.  He pulled his hands around behind it then and tied them, securing him to the post.  Next, he took long strips of leather and lashed the younger man’s calves to his thighs.  Once that was done, he pushed his knees as widely apart as they would go, exposing him.  Finally, he took the scarf from around his neck and blindfolded him, even going so far as to bind it to the post so that d’Artagnan’s head was as immobilized as the rest of him.  When he was finished, he stepped back and admired his work.  
   
Athos felt his own cock stir when he took in the sight of his lover bound for his pleasure.  He let the silence drag on as he looked his fill, noticing how it only heightened d’Artagnan’s arousal.  Stepping forward, he finally placed a hand on his shoulder and was surprised when the younger man started slightly.    
   
“Easy,” Athos said as he slid to his knees in front of him.  “You are mine to do with as I will for as I long as I will it.  You need worry about nothing more than pleasuring me.  Do you understand?”  
   
“Yes, Captain,” d’Artagnan managed, grateful for Athos’ reassurance.    
   
“I must say, boy, you look good enough to eat,” Athos whispered as he leaned in close.  “Perhaps I should have a taste.”  With no more warning than that, he leaned down the rest of the way and clamped his mouth onto d’Artagnan’s shoulder.  He felt him stiffen beneath him then he was digging his teeth in and sucking hard, intent on leaving his mark behind.  
   
“Ah!” d’Artagnan cried out at the feel of Athos’ teeth sinking into his flesh.  He tried to squirm but he was bound so tightly he could barely move.  By the time Athos finally released him, he was panting as the sharp sting sent sparks of desire like lightning to his cock.  
   
“Did you think I forgot how much you like to hurt?” Athos said as he looked him up and down.  He let one hand go to his shoulder, pressing his thumb into the mark he had just left while the other caressed d’Artagnan’s chest.    
   
“Please,” d’Artagnan moaned when Athos’ fingers brushed across one taut nipple, the simple touch making him ache for more.    
   
“Beg me for it,” Athos told him as he took hold of the pert nub and twisted it.  
   
“Please!” d’Artagnan began at once.  “Please, Captain.  Please… hu-hurt me.  Oh please, Sir.”  
   
Athos responded at once, taking hold of both nipples and twisting them brutally.  He grinned when d’Artagnan tried to arch beneath his hands, his bindings holding him in place easily.  He kept at it, twisting each nipple until they stood up swollen and full.  He had no doubt that, come morning, they would be bruised as well.  Reaching down, he took hold of his erection and squeezed it hard pulling a strangled yelp from the boy.  
   
“Spend without my permission and I will cover your cock in stripes,” Athos threatened, losing himself a bit to the fantasy..    
   
“No, Captain,” d’Artagnan gasped as he tried to ride out all of the delicious pain that threatened to swamp hm.  “I won’t.  I won’t.”  
   
“Good boy,” Athos said as he released him and pushed to his feet.  Unbuttoning his breeches, he pulled out his own straining erection.  Stepping forward, he rubbed the sticky head all over d’Artagnan’s face, coating it liberally before stepping back again.  
   
“Stick out your tongue,” he directed.  “All the way.  Now hold it.”  He stepped forward again and rubbed his cock all over the boy’s outstretched tongue before pulling back and rubbing it over his face once more.    
   
When d’Artagnan started to draw his tongue back in, Athos slapped him lightly and pressed his thumb into the center of it, forcing his jaw open wide.  He shoved the head of his cock into his mouth and held it for long seconds before pulling it back out and rubbing it all over his face once more.  This time, d’Artagnan didn’t try to draw his tongue back but left it hanging out as he panted, spit running down his chin.  
   
“Such a good little bitch, just panting for my cock,” Athos said as he watched him, pleased with the darkening blush his words caused.  “You’re just dying for it down your throat, aren’t you?”  He didn’t wait for d’Artagnan to reply but thrust his cock back into his mouth and held it, enjoying the feel of that hot wetness along his member.    
   
Athos could feel fine tremors running through his boy and it only made him want to use him harder.  Pressing forward, he pushed his cock in until it hit the back of his throat and held it there before pulled it free once more.    
   
Out of reflex, d’Artagnan drew his tongue back into his mouth as soon as Athos’ cock was free.  He realized it for the mistake it was a second later when he felt a stinging slap, much harder than the last, across his cheek.  
   
“Keep your tongue out!” Athos snapped.  “Or do I need to put a strap across that as well?”  
   
D’Artagnan shook his head as much as his restraints would allow and concentrated on keeping his tongue out.  It felt obscene, to be drooling on himself like an animal while Athos used him.  Yet at the same time, it made the twisted up parts inside of him practically sing.  He was Athos’ boy.  Athos’ _toy_.  And the knowledge left him feeling more right than he had in a long time.    
   
Athos kept it up a bit longer, fucking himself on d’Artagnan’s tongue while the boy drooled all down his chin and onto his chest.  The power d’Artagnan willingly ceded to him was a rush and he felt himself growing heady from it.  Taking a step back again, he waited, watching his lover closely.  Finally, he relented and allowed d’Artagnan to close his mouth.   
   
He gave him a moment longer to rest his jaw then he was moving in close again.  He pressed his thumbs into the hinges of his jaws, forcing his mouth open wide and shoved himself in hard and deep.  He felt the boy start to choke but kept his thumbs locked in place, giving him no choice but to keep his mouth open and take what he was given.    
   
“Swallow,” Athos demanded as he pushed against the back of his throat.  He was determined to take all that he wanted from him and refused to stop until he was buried to the root, his cock fully lodged in his young lover’s throat.  He could feel his throat still working, trying to expel him, but he refused to surrender his prize and held himself still until d’Artagnan’s body finally stopped trying to fight him.    
   
“Good slut,” he praised as he drew back and thrust forward, moaning at the feel of that tight, wet heat all along his flesh.  He began to fuck him then, taking what he wanted as d’Artagnan moaned and struggled weakly beneath him.  He kept his thumbs dug in hard, enjoying the feel of controlling the other man so thoroughly.    
   
D’Artagnan was shaking hard and it only drove Athos on.  He was shoving his cock in to the hilt on every thrust, making him take him into his throat over and over again.  He could still feel him gagging around him but he didn’t care.  All he cared about was power he held and his ever approaching release.  
   
Finally, Athos could prolong it no longer and shoved forward, grinding himself into d’Artagnan’s face as he spent himself down his throat.  When he was finished, he held himself in place, making the boy continue to hold him in his mouth until he finally began to soften.  Only then did he step back and let his spent cock slide from the boy’s panting mouth.  
   
D’Artagnan sagged against the post, his bindings the only thing holding him up as Athos stepped back.  His throat felt raw from the fucking Athos had just given it and his whole body ached.  He had grown light-headed near the end, barely able to draw breath, and still Athos had continued to take him paying no more heed to him than he would have a whore, less even.  That thought made his bullocks throb and he couldn’t help but moan weakly.  
   
“Still haven’t had enough, slut?” Athos sneered as he eyed him up and down.  D’Artagnan’s cock stood out, angry and weeping, and he knew it would not take much to make the boy spend.  
   
Moving carefully in front of him, Athos reached out with one booted foot and ran it up and down the length of him.  The strangled sound it pulled from the boy had him grinning widely and he did it again.  “Do you want to spend?” he finally asked.  
   
“Oh please, Captain,” d’Artagnan rasped.    
   
“Then spend,” Athos said as he stroked him with his booted foot again.  
   
That was all the impetus d’Artagnan needed.  With a groan that sounded equal parts pleasure and pain, he began to spend, his seed striping Athos’ boots as he stood before him.  Athos let him ride out his pleasure, not moving until he sagged against the post once more.    
   
He reached for the blindfold first, wanting to see his lover’s face.  He was rewarded by the most lust-blown gaze he had ever seen on d’Artagnan or anyone.  Next, he leaned down and slit the rope binding his hands.  Carding a hand in his lank hair, he pulled his head back and stared down into his wide brown eyes for a moment.  
   
“You made a mess, boy,” he said gently.  When d’Artagnan frowned in confusion, he directed his gaze down to his boots that were striped with the boy’s spend.  “You need to clean that up.”  
   
D’Artagnan looked at his boots then back up at Athos’ face.  Licking his lips, he nodded shakily before slowly lowering his head.  He felt another wild surge of desire as he began carefully licking Athos’ boots clean.  If he had not just spent, he knew he would be hard and aching from this alone.  As it was, it was enough to make his bullocks throb.  
   
Only when Athos was satisfied that both his boots had been thoroughly cleaned, did he step back.  He released the last of d’Artagnan’s bindings and picked up the end of the leash once more.  “Come,” he said again as he gave the leash a much gentler tug than before, aware of how exhausted his boy was.    
   
The walk back to the house was as slow as the first one.  When they were finally inside, Athos walked him back to the divan and sat down.  He started to remove the leash but d’Artagnan wrapped himself around his legs, laying his head atop his booted feet before he could do so.  Between one minute and the next, his boy was asleep in the floor at his feet.  
   
Athos left him like that for a time, wanting to make sure he was sound asleep before he stood and lifted him.  He carried him into their room and laid him down on the bed.  He slipped the belt from his neck and lay down beside him, curling himself around the younger man’s back and holding him while he slept, his thumb resting over the mark on his shoulder.  
   
&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M  
   
Aramis and Porthos were in the kitchen when things finally came to a head.  Aramis had been on edge all day.  They had overheard some of the men laughing and talking about d’Artagnan, retelling an old story.  They had not meant any harm but hearing the story only reminded them both that their brothers were not where they should be.  Aramis had ended up walking off toward the infirmary, his hands balled into fists.  He had given him a few minutes before following after him and had found him with Francois, their noses buried in some medical text.  He had left them to it, knowing the presence of the boy would keep Aramis from losing his control too badly.  
   
Now, they were at home and the tension from earlier was back tenfold.  It was to the point that Aramis even refused his help with dinner, leaving him to sit at the table and watch.  Porthos was doing that very thing when the man suddenly snarled and threw the pitcher in his hands across the room to shatter against the far wall.  
   
“What the hell?” Porthos shouted as he sprang to his feet.  “Aramis!”  
   
“I’m sorry,” Aramis said as he stood leaning against the counter trying to get control of the sudden rage that had consumed him.  
   
“Brother, what is it?” Porthos asked as he came over and leaned against the counter next to him.  He didn’t touch him, aware of how volatile he was at the moment.    
   
“How could he?” Aramis seethed.  “How could he just hand my Master over to the hangman as if it were nothing?”  
   
“Aramis,” Porthos sighed.  “You know that isn’t what he did.”  
   
“You could have fooled me,” Aramis snapped.  “I’m sorry.  I am not upset with you.  It’s just...”  
   
“Just what?”  
   
“We don’t even know if they are alright,” Aramis said.  “It has been over a week, Porthos, and still Treville insists on this separation.  It isn’t right.”  
   
“You are right there,” Porthos said.  He wasn’t sure why Treville was insisting on keeping them apart but it had gone on long enough.  “I have an errand to run.  I need you to wait here for me.  Can you do that?”  
   
“Where are you going?” Aramis asked with a frown.  
   
“To put this right.”  
   
Porthos wasn’t surprised to find Treville in his office.  Even with Constance still in the city, the Captain was loath to leave his office before late in the night.  Luckily for him, Constance found his dedication admirable rather than annoying and had taken to coming round to collect her husband when night fell.  Hoping he was still alone, Porthos rapped sharply and waited.  
   
He was relieved when he entered and found the Captain still alone.  He knew he could speak in front of Constance without worry.  Still, the less people who knew of this the better.  Standing in front of Treville’s desk, Porthos tried not to fidget as the Captain eyed him warily.  
   
“Spit it out already,” Treville said when Porthos failed to say anything.      
   
Standing up straighter, Porthos looked the Captain in the eye.  “We need to bring our brothers home,” he said firmly.  
   
“No,” Treville shook his head.  
   
“How much longer are you going to force us apart?” Porthos asked, refusing to back down.    
   
“Until this mess is cleaned up,” Treville replied sharply.  
   
“You’ve had this handled for days now,” Porthos countered.  “You know there’s nothing to tie them to Champney.  Besides…”  
   
“Besides what?  If that damnable boy…”  
   
“D’Artagnan is innocent,” Porthos said, his words taking Treville by surprise.  
   
“He already confessed,” Treville argued.  
   
“He lied,” Porthos said flatly.  “He was with me on patrol the whole day.  He was nowhere near the Champney house.”  
   
“Then who killed them?” Treville demanded.  “You can’t tell me Athos…”  
   
“I’m not telling you anything,” Porthos said softly.  “I wasn’t there.  I only know that d’Artagnan is innocent.  Now are you going to let us go to our brothers or not?”  
   
Treville sat back in his chair and looked at Porthos.  Everything about him said he was telling the truth.  So if d’Artagnan, and therefore Porthos, were nowhere near the house that left only two possibilities.  Of them, he doubted if Athos had lost control to such a degree as to leave two dead bodies in his wake.  That left only Aramis.  No wonder the boy had confessed.    
   
“Fine,” Treville sighed.  “Get them and return here at once.  Then I expect some answers.”  At Porthos alarmed look he held up his hands.  “The investigation has already been put to rest but I want an explanation.  I want to know exactly what happened and why.”  
   
“Yes, Sir,” Porthos said.  He wasn’t thrilled with the idea of having to explain things to the Captain but after everything, he had a right to know.  That was for later, though.  Right now, the only thing that mattered was getting to their brothers.  
   
When Porthos returned home he found Aramis waiting for him at the kitchen table.  He looked so dispirited that Porthos couldn’t help going to him and pulling him into an embrace.  “Go pack,” he said as he held him.  “We’re going after them.”  
   
“What?” Aramis gasped as he leaned back enough to look at Porthos.  
   
“I told Treville that d’Artagnan was innocent, that he was with me on patrol.”  
   
“So he knows?”  
   
“I told him I wasn’t there so I didn’t know who killed them, but he’s not stupid,” Porthos sighed.  “I know we were trying to keep you out of it…”  
   
“No,” Aramis said.  “You lot were trying.  I was not given a say in the matter.”  
   
“You were,” Porthos reminded him.  “But you said you trusted Athos to handle it.”  
   
“I didn’t mean for him to send d’Artagnan to the gallows in my place!”  
   
“He knows that,” Porthos soothed.  “We all do.  And while you let him make the decision that night, in truth you were in no fit state to even decide that much.  You were in shock, brother.  Had you not been, you never would have let things happen as they did.  I’m only sorry I didn’t speak up sooner.” 

“You, my Porthos, have nothing to apologize for,” Aramis told him.  “Do you think… That is… Can we leave tonight?  I know it is already late but…”  
   
“Go pack,” Porthos said again.  “We’ll leave as soon as you’re ready.”  
   
In less than an hour, they were underway.  Both men had to fight not to push their mounts in their eagerness to reach their brothers.  Porthos could feel the tension radiating off Aramis as they rode.  Rather than easing, his tension seemed to grow the closer they got to the maison.  It had reached the point when they broke into the clearing leading up to the house that Porthos wondered if it would not have been better to wait until morning.  
   
Inside the house, the sound of riders quickly approaching made Athos freeze.  He looked at d’Artagnan, his eyes going wide, then shoved him toward the kitchen.  “Go!” he said as he rushed along behind him.  “Wait for me at the glade.  If I do not come, make your way to the ruins.  Aramis knows to look for you there.”  
   
“I’m not leaving without you,” d’Artagnan said.  
   
“They are not coming for me,” Athos reasoned.  “Now go.”  
   
They had just come through the back door, weapons in hand, when the sight of Porthos and Aramis riding up brought them to a staggering halt.  Athos felt so relieved he was nearly sick with it as he sagged against the side of the house, his heart trying to beat its way out of his chest.    
   
“Thank God,” d’Artagnan whispered as he watched his brothers riding up.  No matter what Athos said there was no guarantee that they would have been coming solely for him.    
   
Aramis’ horse hadn’t even stopped completely before he was dismounting and heading straight for d’Artagnan.  He jerked the younger man into his arms and held him tightly, his eyes squeezed shut as he let his presence wash over him.    
   
“I’ll get the horses squared away and meet you inside,” Porthos said, giving Athos a warning look before heading for the barn.  
   
Athos let the pair be for a few minutes before finally ushering them into the house.  He put his and d’Artagnan’s weapons away as the younger man led Aramis into the sitting room.  From the look Porthos had given him, he knew that something was wrong but was unsure what.  Were they coming for d’Artagnan after all and the pair had come to flee with them?  
   
“It’s alright,” Porthos said as he joined them in the sitting room.  “Nobody’s coming for him.”  
   
“Well that is a relief,” Athos said.  “I must say, brothers, you gave us a bit of a fright.”  
   
“Gave you a fright?” Aramis said icily as turned his attention to Athos.  “If you had not thrown him to the bloody wolves in the first place none of this would have happened!”  
   
“Aramis,” Porthos chided, hoping to calm his brother.  While he agreed that letting d’Artagnan take the blame for this had been wrong, berating Athos would not solve anything either.    
   
“No,” Aramis said, his eyes locked on Athos.  “He did this!  He offered up d’Artagnan to the hangman without so much as a thought.  And you have the audacity to call yourself his brother.  Bah!  You care no more for him than you do…”  
   
“That’s enough!” Athos roared, his temper getting the best of him.  “You think I wanted to let him take the blame for what you did?  But it wasn’t like you were in any shape to.  You wanted me to fix it and I did!” After the fright they had just given him, for Aramis to stand there and accuse him in such a manner was more than he could take.    
   
“Bullshit!” Aramis shot back.  His hands were balled into fists and it was taking everything within him to keep from lashing out at the man before him physically.  
   
“That’s enough from the both of you,” Porthos said firmly, going so far as to take a step between the pair.  Reaching out he grabbed d’Artagnan by the shoulder and pulled him in close so he could speak directly in his ear.  “Whelp, why don’t you take Aramis and see if you can get him to calm down while I talk to Athos?”  
   
D’Artagnan looked back and forth between the two men and slowly nodded.  He had no idea why Aramis was so angry with Athos but it was clear the pair needed some space.  Taking Aramis by the arm, he began to lead him to the bedroom they had always considered to be theirs.  Once inside, he sat Aramis on the side of the bed then closed and locked the door, not so much to keep the others out but to keep Aramis in should his temper get the better of him again.  Sitting down beside him, he took his hand and held it.  As he did so, he could feel the angry tremors running through the man and it only made him worry more.    
   
“I do not know what has upset you so but I would help you if I am able,” he said.  “Can you tell me?”  
   
“It is Athos,” Aramis growled out.  “Athos and his… his…”  
   
“Easy, boy,” d’Artagnan said without thinking.  Letting go of his hand, he sank fingers into Aramis’ hair and began to massage his scalp.  He felt him begin to relax almost at once and smiled to himself, thankful that Aramis trusted him enough to still allow himself this.  
   
“I am sorry, Master,” Aramis said, responding without thought to the other man.    
   
D’Artagnan paused for a heartbeat when Aramis referred to him as Master.  It was completely unexpected.  Yet when he considered how agitated Aramis was, it was somewhat expected after all.  “Tell me,” he said after a moment as he began to card his fingers through his hair.  “Tell me so I might help you.”  
   
“Do, uh, do you wish me to kneel?” Aramis asked uncertainly.  Always before in times like these his Master would have him naked and on his knees, laid bare and broken down so that he might build him back up again.  All things considered, Aramis didn’t know if d’Artagnan would be so willing at the moment.    
   
“In truth,” d’Artagnan began.  “I am unsure.”  
   
“Master?” Aramis called hesitantly.  He could feel his growing distress and was unsure what to do.    
   
“It’s alright, Little One,” d’Artagnan said again, unable to not respond.  “I just… I don’t know where to start.”  
   
“What do you mean?” Aramis asked turning toward him so he could look at him.  Pensiveness was written all over his face and it made him ache to know he was the cause of it.  He had never seen his Master so unsure of himself.  Even their first time together had not been this fraught.    
   
“We are not as we were,” d’Artagnan tried to explain.  “For me to… to treat you as I would have before… seems wrong.”  
   
“I don’t understand,” Aramis said.  
   
“Before, what is the first thing I would have done once we were alone?”  
   
“You would have bade me disrobe and kneel,” Aramis said after a moment.  
   
“I have not even seen you in such a state since before.  How can I command you to bare yourself to me in such a way now?”  
   
“Oh, Master.  I trust you,” Aramis told him.  “I trust you completely.”  
   
“Perhaps I do not yet trust myself then,” d’Artagnan offered.  
   
Knowing that talking about it was not likely to do much good, Aramis rose.  He moved to the center of the room and began slowly removing his clothes.  When he was down to nothing but his breeches, he stopped and slowly slid to his knees.  
   
“Help me, Master.  Please,” he whispered, his head bowed respectfully.  
   
D’Artagnan sucked in a breath at the sight of a nearly naked Aramis kneeling before him.  His felt his stomach flip at the knowledge that his lover was turning himself over to him and placing himself into his hands once more.  
   
“I love you.  So much,” d’Artagnan told him before forcing his emotions to the back and concentrating on what his boy needed in this moment.    
   
“As I do you, Master.”  
   
“You do not know how much that eases my heart to hear.  But this is not the time for that,” he said as he stood and walked over to stand before him.  “You are troubled.  Tell me what is wrong.”  
   
“Athos,” Aramis snarled, his earlier anger surging back.    
   
“Easy, boy,” d’Artagnan said again as he carded his fingers through Aramis’ hair and gently cradled his skull.  He held his hand like that for a moment before tightening his grip slightly and tugging.  “Come with me.”  
   
Aramis obeyed at once, crawling beside d’Artagnan on his knees back over to the bed.  He waited while his Master sat down and spread his knees then he was crawling between them.  He couldn’t suppress a shiver when he felt his legs on either side of him, bracketing him and his eyes slid closed.  
   
“That’s it,” d’Artagnan coaxed as he began running his fingers through his hair to help calm and center him.  He didn’t do anything other than that until he felt Aramis finally begin to relax.  He gave him a few minutes longer before attempting to broach the subject again.  
   
“You are upset with Athos,” he began carefully.  “Can you tell me why?”  
   
“Where do I start?” Aramis chuckled though he remained where he was with his head bowed and his eyes closed.  
   
“You blame him for my decision,” d’Artagnan prompted.  
   
“Yes,” Aramis said firmly.  “He should never have allowed you to take the blame for killing them.”  
   
“It was my choice,” d’Artagnan reminded him.    
   
“He still agreed to it,” Aramis argued.  He felt some of his anger trying to return but his Master’s hand in his hair kept him calm.  “If he hadn’t…”  
   
“The Captain was already convinced it was my fault.  There would have been no swaying him, not that night.  Now tell me why you are truly so angry.”  
   
“He just… just handed you over.  Like you meant nothing to him.  Like you meant nothing to _me_.  He professes to love you yet thinks nothing of consigning you to a death sentence.”  
   
“You think Athos betrayed me in some way then?”  
   
“Yes!” Aramis said.  
   
“Easy, boy,” d’Artagnan soothed.  “I want you to stay nice and calm.  Nothing can hurt you here.  Nothing can hurt either of us.  Alright?”  
   
“Yes, Master,” Aramis shivered, his Master’s words settling over him like a blanket.  
   
“What else?  I know that is not the whole of it.  Tell me what else has you so tied in knots.”  
   
“He… he treated me as if I was broken.  As if I am still broken,” Aramis tried to explain.  “You heard him out there.  I was in no fit state.  It makes me wonder if I ever will be again.  At least in his eyes.”  
   
“Little One, you were in shock,” d’Artagnan said gently.  “In all fairness, so was Athos, at least somewhat.  Do not forget, he went through an ordeal as well.”

“Oh,” Aramis said, pausing. He had not really thought of what Athos himself had endured. He cast his mind back to that night and tried to recall his brother’s state but everything was a blur. The one thing he could remember was Athos’ single-minded determination to protect him.

“Little One?”

“I… I was not thinking of that,” Aramis admitted, ashamed now of how harshly he had judged his brother.  In truth, he did not even know what all his brother had been through at their hands.  While he knew that Athos had told them, his memories of that night were… hazy.    
   
“Now what else?” d’Artagnan pushed.  “Tell me all of it so that I can help you.”  
   
“It was my fault,” Aramis said slowly.  “All of it.  Everything of late, it seems.  Pierre and Marisol.  The shed.  The explosion.  All of it was because of me yet no one ever holds me accountable.  It shames me to see my brothers suffer because of me yet none dare speak a word against me.”  
   
“I see,” d’Artagnan said.  So that was the root of Aramis’ anger – guilt.  He felt guilty over how things turned out with Champney.  He felt guilty over the shed explosion.  He still felt guilty for bringing whatever the Darkness was into the garrison in the first place.  Yet no one held him accountable for any of it.  They, he, Athos and Porthos, hadn’t let them.  And until Aramis was able to take some semblance of responsibility for his actions, he would continue to drown in guilt.    
   
“You are right,” d’Artagnan said finally, steeling himself to get the words out.  “No one has held you accountable for your actions.  We have been coddling you.  That stops now.  You will face up to what you have done, all that you have done, and you will make amends for it.”  
   
“How, Master?” Aramis asked, swallowing against the rush of relief and trepidation that suddenly filled him.  
   
“You will find a way.  You know in your heart what you need to do.  Follow it.  Your brothers will not turn you away.”  
   
“Y-yes, Master,” Aramis stammered, his face heating in humiliation at the thought of what he had to do.  
   
“It will be fine.  I promise,” d’Artagnan said as he carded his fingers through his hair once more.    
   
“As you say, Master.”  
   
&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M  
   
“Do you think he will be alright?” Athos asked Porthos as they watched the pair leave.  
   
“The Whelp will get him straightened out,” Porthos said.    
   
“I hope so,” Athos sighed.  
   
“And what about you, brother?” Porthos asked as he looked Athos up and down.  He seemed to deflate after his initial outburst with Aramis and now looked exhausted.  
   
“I’m fine,” he said dismissively.    
   
“I don’t believe you,” Porthos pressed.  
   
“I am merely tired, Porthos.  While I tried not to let my worry show, the longer our exile lasted the more worried I became.  You are sure no one is coming for him?”  
   
“I’m sure, brother,” Porthos told him.  “Treville…”  
   
“What?” Athos asked.  When Porthos looked away as if unable to meet his eyes, he felt his worry come back in a sickening wave.  
   
“Treville knows the boy’s innocent,” Porthos said.  He saw the question in Athos’ eyes and explained.  “I told him he was with me on patrol all day, nowhere near the Champney house.”  
   
“Does he know…?”  
   
“I didn’t say who killed them but Treville isn’t stupid.  I know you’re pissed, but Aramis…”  
   
“I’m not,” Athos said.  “I should never have let him take the blame in the first place.  All I was thinking was that it couldn’t be Aramis.”  
   
“I know.  So does he.  Or at least he will once he can see past his fear again.  That’s all this was, Athos.”  
   
“It was more than simply fear and you know it,” Athos countered.  “He blames me and he has every right to.  Nothing he said was wrong, Porthos.  I did offer up d’Artagnan like a lamb to the slaughter.”  
   
“D’Artagnan offered himself up,” Porthos corrected.  “You just didn’t stop him.”  
   
“Yes.  And we see where that got us,” Athos said sourly.    
   
When d’Artagnan came back into the sitting room alone, he found both men waiting somewhat anxiously, though Athos more so than Porthos.  He knew that was only to be expected after Aramis’ earlier outburst but it still hurt to see his brother looking so guarded.  As he joined them on the divan, he realized that Athos wasn’t just anxious about Aramis, he was worried about him as well.  
   
“Everything is fine,” d’Artagnan said as he took up his hand.  “Or it will be.  He did not mean those things he said to you, Athos.”  
   
“Yes, he did,” Athos replied dully.  
   
“Not as you took them,” d’Artagnan returned.    
   
“You get to the bottom of what’s been eating at him?” Porthos asked hopefully.  
   
“Yes,” d’Artagnan nodded.  “In short, he is being eaten alive by guilt.  From everything from the couple to the shed to the Darkness itself.  He feels as if whatever he does, whatever ill he causes, he is never made to answer for because… because he is simply too damaged and we are determined to shelter him.”  
   
“Ah,” Porthos said, flinching slightly.  He was as guilty as the rest when it came to shielding Aramis but he knew it had to stop or their brother would never get his confidence back.  
   
“None of that was Aramis’ fault,” Athos tried to argue but d’Artagnan refused to let him.  
   
“It may not have been his fault but he was still the cause of what happened.  If not for him, we would never have gotten involved with the Champneys.  If not for him, the shed would not have exploded in the garrison.  If not for him, the Darkness would never have been brought here to begin with.  He was the catalyst for each of those events and, in his eyes, responsible for their outcomes.”  
   
“So how do we help him?” Porthos asked.  He could see that Athos still did not agree completely but he knew he would do whatever was needed to help Aramis get past this.  
   
“He needs to seek forgiveness, likely from each of you,” d’Artagnan explained.  “When we return to Paris, he will to do the same with Treville.”  
   
“And you think this will help him in some way?” Athos asked skeptically.  
   
“I think it will be a start,” d’Artagnan replied.    
   
“What about Athos?” Porthos asked, for that was the thing that worried him the most right now.  
   
“I’m afraid the two of you are going to have to talk that out,” d’Artagnan said.  “He feels like you no longer see him as a man but some broken thing that must be protected.  That is the root of his anger though knowing Aramis there is likely a great deal more to it than that.”  
   
“From his earlier outburst, I am unsure if he will be willing to speak with me without blood being shed,” Athos said sadly.  
   
“He will,” d’Artagnan told him.  “I will make sure of it.  Now, I do believe we could all use some sleep.  I will keep Aramis with me tonight.  Will you two be alright on your own?”  
   
“We’ll be fine, Whelp,” Porthos said.  He had one hand on Athos’ shoulder and could feel the tension in the man but he did not contradict him.  “You just worry about Aramis.  I’ll take care of Athos.”  
   
&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M  
   
When d’Artagnan awoke it was to the feel of a finger drawing lazy circles on his chest.  Cracking open his eyes, he was greeted by a mass of dark curls.  Smiling, he placed a soft kiss to the messy head letting the other man know he was indeed awake.  
   
“Thank you for staying with me, Master,” Aramis said as he continued to lay atop d’Artagnan.  He was surprised at how relaxed he remained now that they were both awake.  He had initially attributed his lack of distress to exhaustion but he knew now that was not the case.  Whatever the reason, he felt none of the trepidation he had expected to upon waking as he had and was quietly glad for it.  Today was going to prove difficult enough without his insecurities pushing an unnecessary wall between them.  
   
“You are welcome,” d’Artagnan told him.  “Though it was no hardship.  Being with you, in any manner, is always welcome.”  
   
“Master,” Aramis whispered, his hand tightening on the other man’s chest.  “I do not mean to make things harder on you.  Yet I cannot deny how good this feels.  Perhaps…”  
   
“Perhaps?”  
   
“Perhaps that is part of the problem,” Aramis offered.  “It does feel good to lay wrapped in your embrace, to enjoy the safety your strong arms provide.  But in doing so, am I making myself appear weak before you?  Does my desire for your strength only prove my own lack of it?”  
   
“No,” d’Artagnan told him.  “You think we somehow see you as weak when it is the opposite.  Your ability to show your need for us, that only proves how very strong you are.”  
   
Aramis pushed himself up and looked at him, his eyes disdainful.  Hiding behind his lovers as he had done for weeks did not make him strong.  It showed nothing but cowardice.  If he would have pulled himself together and faced Champney like a man, none of this would have happened.  It was his fault for even telling them of Pierre and Marisol in the first place.    
   
“Stop,” d’Artagnan said firmly.  He could see the emotions flitting through Aramis’ eyes and knew he was berating himself once more and he would not stand for it.  There was no changing the past.  All they could do was gather themselves together and try to move forward.  “Now, do you feel up to eating anything this morning or would you rather we simply begin?”  
   
“I would rather see this done,” Aramis said, the thought of food all but turning his stomach.    
   
They rose from the bed then and dressed in a loose shirts and breeches.  D’Artagnan had thought about keeping him naked to some degree but this was not Aramis coming to his brothers on his knees.  This needed to be Aramis coming to them as an equal, forcing them to see him as the man he was once more.    
   
“If you wish me to bare myself, Master, you have but to say.  I trust you in all things and if you wish me to not even have my clothes to hide behind then so be it.”  
   
“That you would still trust me to such a degree soothes my aching heart.  But this is neither the time not place for such.  You are our brother, our equal, and it is long past time we remembered that.”   

“Thank you, d’Artagnan,” Aramis said, smiling softly at him.  He would never understand how even when they were at odds this boy always knew what it was he needed most. On impulse, he leaned forward and brushed a soft kiss to d’Artagnan’s lips. The other man’s sharp intake of breath made his heart flutter and he blushed as he finished pulling on his clothes.   
   
Once dressed, they went to the sitting room and found the others waiting for them.  With a last squeeze to d’Artagnan’s hand, Aramis pulled the chair around in front of the divan and sat down.    
   
“I would like to speak to the three of you,” he began formally.  “Firstly, I wish to apologize for my behavior when we arrived.  It was atrocious and uncalled for.  Athos, I would speak with you privately later if you’ve a mind.”  
   
“Of course,” Athos replied though his stomach knotted painfully at the thought of what Aramis might have to say.    
   
“But for now, please know that I am sorry for my behavior.  I’m sorry… sorry for all of this.  None of this would have happened if not for me.  I tied your hands, refusing to allow you to act on the couple.  In all truth, I should never have let you take that burden on in the first place.  Champney was my problem to deal with, not yours.”  
   
“Your problems are our problems,” Porthos said.    
   
“If I had been man enough to take care of it on my own, none of this would have happened,” Aramis insisted.  
   
“We are a family, love.  Families take care of each other,” Porthos said.  
   
“Regardless, Aramis is correct,” d’Artagnan cut in though the words were like shards of glass.    
   
“Come again?” Porthos said as he stared agape at him.  
   
“He brought the Champney problem to us.  Just as he brought the darkness and what happened with the shed.”  
   
“You can’t be serious,” Athos said appalled.  “Aramis is not at fault for any of that.”  
   
“But I am,” Aramis said.  “It may not have been my intention, but I brought that evil into the garrison just as I brought Pierre and Marisol into our lives.  The fault… the fault was mine.”  
   
“I will never agree that you were at fault.  Not for any of this,” Athos said as he cast a glare in d’Artagnan’s direction.  “But I can understand your need to atone for the ill that has been done regardless of the fault.”  
   
“Thank you,” Aramis said somewhat stiffly.  “Please know that I am so very sorry for the pain and suffering I have caused each of you.  You… you are my brothers.  No matter what else, you are my brothers and that bond… it means everything to me.”  
   
“To us as well,” d’Artagnan said.    
   
As much as they would have liked to have taken some time and set things right between them then and there, the Captain was expecting them back.  They had considered going to him together to explain, but Aramis had asked them not to.  This, he felt, was his doing and therefore his mess to clean up.    
   
“I will need to go with you,” Athos had said causing Aramis to bristle.  “I only mean that the Captain will likely wish to speak to me afterwards and I will need to be on hand.”  
   
“My apologies,” Aramis said with a nod of his head.  “I did not mean…”  
   
“It is fine,” Athos said.  “I know I have not been treating you as I should of late and that has caused this rift between us.  If we but had the time now…”  
   
“When we’re home,” Porthos told them both.  “We’ll have plenty of time to talk things out once we’re back home.” 

&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M

They made it back to the city just as the sun was beginning to set. Athos tried to send Porthos and d’Artagnan home saying he and Aramis would meet them there once Treville was finished with them but the two men refused. If they could not stand by their brothers while they faced the Captain then they would be as near as they could. 

Aramis took a moment to steady himself before heading up the stairs to the Captain’s office. He was not looking forward to giving the man an explanation. Even one devoid of all the details of Aramis’ past would still be telling the man far more than he ever wanted anyone to know. It was bad enough that his brothers knew of his disgrace, for the Captain to know of it as well was nearly more than he could take.

“Tell him only what you feel you must,” Athos whispered as they stood outside the door to the Captain’s office. “He does not need to know more than the fact that Champney had a grudge against you and took us both captive. Your actions were in defense of our lives.”

“And you do not think the Captain will insist upon knowing what this supposed grudge was?” Aramis challenged.

“Of course he will,” Athos replied. “But it is irrelevant and I will tell him as much.”

“No,” Aramis said standing a bit straighter. “You have done quite enough as it is. I am capable of answering to the Captain.”

“My apologies,” Athos said, taken aback. “I did not mean to suggest otherwise. I only meant to…”

“To protect me,” Aramis cut in. “Yes, I know. But protecting me nearly sent d’Artagnan to the gallows. I think I have had enough of my brothers protecting me.” Not wanting to argue the matter any further, Aramis knocked sharply on the Captain’s door.

“Enter!” Treville barked. He had been expecting his wayward men all day and was both relieved and annoyed now that they had finally arrived.

Entering the room, they came to stand in front of the Captain’s desk and waited. They could tell that Treville was already in a mood and that did not bode well for them. As the Captain sat behind his desk watching them, both kept their gaze locked on the far wall. Athos had to clamp his jaw shut to keep from speaking first. He knew Aramis did not want him to defend him but it was difficult not to.

“Well?” Treville demanded at last, his eyes boring into Aramis’. “Are you just going to stand there?”

“What is it you wish to know, Sir?” Aramis asked.

“What happened in the Champney house?” Treville asked point-blank. “Porthos says the boy was with him on patrol. If that was the case then why did he confess to their murders?”

“He was protecting me,” Aramis said. He saw no reason to lie any longer. This was his doing and he would make it right, starting with the Captain.

“Explain,” Treville said.

Aramis’ eyes cut to Athos then back again. “Pierre Champney and I had a history. He and his wife… held a grudge against me.”

“What sort of grudge?” Treville asked.

“They… that is difficult to explain…”

“Try,” Treville ordered.

“She was my mistress once. But it… it was an act. She played the part in order to… to lure me into a position where I could not fight back,” Aramis said, swallowing thickly as the memories of that time came flooding back. “That was when her husband came in and…”

“I see,” Treville said after a long moment of silence. 

“They continued to plague me whenever they managed to catch me unawares,” Aramis forced himself to continue. 

“I take it this was the problem you were working on when you first returned?” Treville asked.

“Yes, Sir,” Athos said.

“Someone tipped Pierre off and they moved before we could,” Aramis said, the words coming easier now. “He managed to take Athos. I did not realize he had fallen into their clutches until I was brought to his house. I don’t even know how he got his hands on Athos…”

“I was hit over the head from behind,” Athos put in before falling silent once more.

“And you, Aramis?”

“I was waylaid on the way to Saint Severin. I was told if I did not come peacefully, that Michel…”

“So what happened at the house?” Treville asked needing to know the whole of it.

“When I saw that they had Athos… that they were… were hurting him… I… I snapped. My hands were shackled and I remember lashing out. I think I caught Pierre about the face with the chain then I turned on Marisol.”

“You strangled her with your bare hands,” Treville said.

“Yes, Sir,” Aramis replied.

“It was warranted,” Athos said softly. “You don’t know what that monster was going to do to him. He was…”

“Athos!” Aramis barked causing the man to snap his mouth shut.

“Is there anything else, Aramis?” Treville asked wearily. He understood now what had happened or at least most of it. Enough to know his men had acted in their own defense. Still, they had lied to him and that alone would have consequences.

“After I killed Marisol and freed Athos I found that Pierre was still alive. I took a blade and slit his throat.”

“Is there anything you wish to add, Athos?” Treville asked.

“No, Sir,” Athos forced himself to say.

“Very well then. Aramis, you lied to me. Not only that, but you allowed d’Artagnan to take the blame for your actions.”

“That wasn’t Aramis’ fault,” Athos said only for Treville to glare him into silence. 

“As I was saying, you allowed your brother to take the blame for your actions. Tell me, if the guard would have come for him, would you have simply stood by and watched him hang?”

“No,” Aramis said, aghast. 

“Hm. So you say. The point is, I trusted you and you betrayed that trust. Now I have to decide what to do with you.” Treville paused then thinking over his options. Finally he came to a decision. 

“For the next fortnight, you are bound to the garrison. Your brothers will escort you to and from. You will not leave it without an escort during your duty hours. You will restrict your activities to training the new recruits as well as your apprentice. If you step so much as a toe out of line, I will see you stripped of your commission. Am I understood?”

“Yes, Sir,” Aramis said, paling at the Captain’s words. 

“Report to me first thing tomorrow morning. You’re dismissed,” Treville said before turning his attention to Athos. “Athos, a word.”

“Yes, Sir,” Athos said as he stood at attention.

Treville waited for the door to close behind Aramis before rounding on his second in command. “I never thought I would say this to you, Athos, but you are a disgrace.”

Athos flinched at the Captain’s cold words before quickly getting himself under control once more. He had known the Captain was going to be angry at him, likely even more so than at he was at Aramis but he was still taken off guard.

“You willingly handed over an innocent man,” Treville said angrily. “What do you have to say for yourself?”

“You are right, Captain,” Athos replied. “I have no excuse to offer other than my own state of mind at the time. I was… injured while in Champney’s custody. That, however, does not excuse what I did.”

“No, it doesn’t! You handed over one of your brothers, a fellow Musketeer, all to protect Aramis,” Treville railed. “That is not the action of an honorable man. You have no business wearing that uniform let alone being in command of men. By rights, I should boot you out of the regiment right now.”

Athos stared at Treville as the man’s words sank in. He had known he was in trouble for what he had done but he had not expected this. He realized now how naïve he had been. His actions had consequences the same as any other man’s. Even more so because he was Treville’s Lieutenant. He felt sick inside over his actions but when Treville began to speak again he had to brace himself to remain standing.

“I cannot have a dishonorable man as second in command,” Treville continued. “It is an insult to every man in this regiment. Athos de la Fere, you are hereby relieved of your position as Lieutenant. For the next fortnight you will be restricted to the garrison. Your brothers will escort you to and from and you will not leave during your duty hours without an escort. You, along with Aramis, will see to the training of the new recruits. And if you give me so much as a hint of a reason, I will have you stripped of your commission and run out of Paris. Am I understood?”

“Yes, Sir,” Athos said, his voice strained as he fought not to let his emotions show. 

“Then get the hell out of my office before I have you arrested,” Treville snapped.

Athos had just made it down the stairs to his brothers when Treville came out onto the landing. “Samael!” he shouted. “Escort this lot to their home then report back to me.”

Porthos and d’Artagnan both stared wide-eyed at their brothers as they blushed and looked away at Treville’s words. They had thought he would have their two brothers escort them, not assign the duty to another Musketeer, and one fairly new to the regiment at that. It was hard to miss the curious stares of their comrades as they waited to be walked home like errant children.

“You two should go on,” Athos said to Porthos and d’Artagnan. “He means this as our punishment, not yours.”

“We stand together, brother,” Porthos whispered as the young Musketeer walked up. He had a smirk on his face that set Porthos’ teeth on edge but he held his tongue. He would have a word with the Captain come the morning. It was one thing to punish them for their actions, it was another thing altogether to humiliate them in front of the entire garrison.

“Come now,” Samael said as he clapped a warm hand on Athos’ shoulder. “Let’s see you men home. You must be tired after your adventure.”

“What adventure would that be?” Athos asked as he allowed himself to be led from the garrison.

“Why whatever one you all have been on,” Samael laughed. “You are always on one grand adventure or another. It leaves some of us wondering if there will be anything for the rest of us to do.”

“Don’t worry,” Athos replied. “You will quickly learn the Captain never runs out of work.”


	29. Chapter 29

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My sincerest apologies for the long delay.

At home they bid Samael farewell and went inside. Athos had a suspicion they would be seeing more of the man as Treville had made it clear he did not intend to entrust their ‘escort’ to Porthos or d’Artagnan. He tried to tell himself that he did not care, at least not for his own sake, but he knew it was a lie. Being led around like a child too untrustworthy to be out on his own was humiliating. That, of course, had been Treville’s intent. It was not that he did not trust them to walk to and from the garrison on their own. No, this was meant as a blow to their ego and as a way to reinforce just how tenuous their positions currently were.

“That wasn’t right,” Porthos grumbled as they shed their doublets and retired to the sitting room.

“It was meant as a punishment,” Athos said half-heartedly.

“What good is humiliating you like that supposed to do?” Porthos insisted.

“It is a reminder of exactly how thin of ice we are on,” Athos explained. “If either of us step out of line, even to so much as complain, the Captain has made it clear he will see us tossed from the regiment.”

“If he does that, he loses all of us,” d’Artagnan said.

“Which is why he did not demand I surrender my commission outright,” Aramis said softly. 

“It is not only you, brother,” Athos said. “I daresay he is even more put out with my actions.”

“Why?” Aramis asked, shaking his head.

“Because I was his second in command. I not only betrayed d’Artagnan by letting him take the blame for what happened, but I dishonored my position and therefore him as well.”

“Wait,” Porthos frowned. “Was his second in command?”

Athos paused unsure what to say. From the way his brothers were looking at him, he knew he had to tell them. “Yes,” he said as neutrally as he could manage. “Treville has relieved me of my position as Lieutenant and his second.”

“That isn’t fair,” d’Artagnan spat. “I was the one that lied about it.”

“I was your commanding officer, d’Artagnan, and I allowed you to do it, even going so far as to back up your confession,” Athos tried to explain. 

“I’m so sorry,” Aramis said, ashamed all over again. This was his doing. No matter how upset he was with Athos this was still, inevitably, his fault. If he had only taken care of Champney himself none of this would have happened. Now, not only was Athos in trouble with the Captain but he had lost his rank as well. And while his brother might try to pretend otherwise, Aramis knew just how much that rank mattered to him. How did Treville expect him to face the rest of the garrison when word of this got out? This wasn’t a punishment, it was blatant cruelty, yet there was nothing he could do about it. Not this time.

“It isn’t your fault, Aramis,” Athos offered tiredly. “I made the decision and it was a bad one. Treville has every right to question my fitness for command.”

“Look, we’re all beat,” Porthos said. “Let’s gets some sleep and we can talk about this again in the morning.”

“You’re right, of course,” Aramis said. He thought about bed and the idea of heading to his solitary room alone filled him with dread. “D’Artagnan...”

“What?”

“Would you mind terribly staying with me again tonight?” Aramis asked, blushing hotly.

“You know I never mind staying with you,” d’Artagnan told him then turned to the other two. “We’ll be upstairs if you have need of us.”

“Don’t worry about us, Whelp,” Porthos said as he moved closer to Athos. “We’ll be fine on our own for the night.”

“He does not mean to push you away,” Athos said once they were alone, letting his concern for Porthos try to drive away own aching despair.

“He isn’t,” Porthos replied. “Things between us are better. I know my place by his side is safe. But it’s his Master he needs right now. Besides, he knows where to find us if he needs us.”

“Then let us retire to bed,” Athos said his weariness showing. 

Taking him by the hand, Porthos led Athos to the master bedroom. Once inside, he pulled him into the center of the room and wrapped him in his arms. He could feel the tension in Athos but continued to hold him until he felt it finally start to ease. Only then did he lean down and take his brother’s lips in a kiss.

“Let it go,” Porthos told him. “For tonight if nothing else. There is naught to be done for it now anyway. Just let it go and be with me.”

“I am yours,” Athos husked, his emotions swinging wildly. One moment he was angry, the next despondent. He knew he had to get himself under control before he said or did something else he would regret. Knowing he was safe with Porthos, he did his best to do as the man said and simply let go. 

“That’s it,” Porthos said. “I’ve got you. I never did get to see to you after that Champney business so tonight you’re going to let me take care of you.”

“Please,” Athos said softly, surprised when the plea elicited no shame on his part. He was not one to beg but for his brother he found he would do anything.

The quiet plea from Athos caused Porthos to tighten his grip out of reflex, pulling Athos in flush against him. “Tell me, are you still hurt?”

“No,” Athos shook his head. “While I may not be completely healed, I am in no pain. You will not injure me by holding me close.”

“Maybe I best see for myself,” Porthos said with a sly smile. Stepping back, he began to slowly undress his lover ever mindful of his recently injured back.

Athos let himself be undressed, enjoying being taken care of. He so rarely allowed any of his lovers to do so but tonight he could sense that Porthos needed it. In all honesty, he needed it, too. Between Aramis’ unexpected attack on him from the day before and the dressing down and subsequent demotion by Treville, he was sorely in need of someone to help shore him up again. 

Porthos didn’t stop undressing him until he had him down to his skin. He led him over to the bed and bade him get in while he stripped down. He was careful to keep from looking at his back just yet knowing how sensitive Athos was about his scars to begin with. And while Athos had said his most recent injuries would not add to them, the mere thought of them was enough to sicken him. 

As soon as Porthos slid into bed beside him, Athos rolled toward him. Porthos responded at once, pulling Athos into a deep kiss as he held him close, his hand carefully gripping his hip to do so. He knew he was being foolish. They all had scars after all. Yet Athos’ affected him in a way no one else’s did. For it had been his own hands that had put the majority of them there and even now he struggled with the visible reminder. 

“You are thinking much too hard,” Athos said as he pulled his mouth away.

“Thinking about how hard I want to take you,” Porthos replied with an exaggerated leer. It had the desired effect, making Athos laugh and both men relaxed.

“If that is how you want me, brother,” Athos said coyly.

“You sure?” Porthos asked. “You’re not too sore from your boy.”

“He didn’t take me,” Athos told him. 

“Oh? I would have thought you two might use the time to get reacquainted.”

“We did,” Athos smiled. “But it was I that did the taking. In a manner of speaking.”

“Well now. You sure you wanna let me do that?” Porthos asked again, still a bit unsure after everything.

“I always want you, Porthos,” Athos told him seriously. “In every way.”

“Then I want you on your hands and knees,” Porthos told him.

Athos quirked an eyebrow at him in surprise. “You don’t have to do that. I know the sight of them...”

“I want to,” Porthos said. “I need to.”

“Very well then,” Athos relented. “There is nothing I would not do for you. If that is what you want, what you need, then you shall have it.”

Porthos stared at his lover then pulled him forward kissing him hard and deep. Only when he felt Athos’ hardness digging into his hip did he let him go. Rolling over, he retrieved the oil from the nightstand and turned back to his lover. 

Athos had moved onto his hands and knees and the sight stopped Porthos cold. He could see the bright red lines left behind by the crop and it made his stomach knot. Refusing to allow those fiends to rob them of this, Porthos made himself move up behind Athos. As he pressed himself along his back, he felt him stiffen and gently kissed his shoulder. 

“Porthos,” Athos moaned quietly as he felt the bigger man covering him. It made him feel cherished and protected at once and he forced himself to relax against him.

“That’s it,” Porthos said as he set the oil aside and began kissing along Athos’ back. “I’ve got you.”

Athos couldn’t stop his gasp when he felt Porthos’ lips upon his back. His lover was gently kissing him all over, paying particular attention to each new mark that had been put upon him. The feel of those soft lips and the way Porthos was being so careful with him left him feeling off-kilter but he didn’t complain. Instead, he gave himself over to his lover trusting him to take care of him.

“Athos... Brother...” Porthos whispered as he placed kiss after kiss all over his back. He kissed every new mark, tracing them with his lips and tongue, intent on somehow making them his own.

“Yes,” Athos panted as Porthos’ tongue licked over another healing wounding making it sting and ache in the best of ways. 

“Want you,” Porthos said against his skin, his breath like a caress.

“I am yours,” Athos told him. “Though why you think me worthy after...”

“You are mine,” Porthos growled, his hands going to Athos’ hips and gripping him tightly. “You’re mine. Every part of you. Even these marks that devil-woman left you with.”

“Yes,” Athos moaned. “Yes, I am yours. All of me is yours. You own me, brother. Now come and take what is yours.”

Porthos needed no more encouragement than that. Slowly, he kissed and licked his way down Athos’ body until he reached his ass. With a rumbling growl he spread his cheeks and licked a wet stripe directly over his hole. Only his grip on Athos’ hips kept the man from jerking away and Porthos growled again as he began licking and tonguing him in earnest.

“Yes!” Athos cried out, his hands fisting in the bed linen. Porthos had not been so forceful with any of them since the attack and Athos found himself reveling in it. 

Not wanting to make Athos spend this way, Porthos drew back. At Athos’ desperate sound of protest, he placed another kiss on his back. “Easy now,” he said, trying to rein himself in as he took up the oil. Sitting up, he slicked two of his fingers and pressed them against Athos’ hole. At his nod, Porthos began slowly pressing them in.

“Ohhh...” Athos moaned as he felt Porthos’ thick fingers start to breech him. They felt impossibly big but he didn’t care, he pushed back causing them to sink even deeper inside of him.

“Yeah, that’s it,” Porthos said as he sank his fingers in to the hilt then began slowly fucking him with them. “You want it. You know you do.”

“Yes,” Athos moaned. “I want it. I want you.”

Unable to wait any longer Porthos slid his fingers free. He quickly slicked his cock then spread Athos’ cheeks wide. Placing the head of his cock against his hole, he began to press inside of him. Both men moaned when the head of Porthos’ cock breached him. Athos body clamped down hard and Porthos stilled trying to give him a moment to adjust.

“Take me, please,” Athos panted. He didn’t want to go slow. He didn’t want to wait. He wanted to be fucked.  
   
With a growl, Porthos pressed forward again, not stopping until his cock was all the way inside his lover. He paused then, taking a moment to enjoy the feel of being encased in Athos. He could feel him clenching around him as his body struggled to adjust and leaned over his back once more and covered Athos’ fisted hands with his own as he kissed and sucked at his shoulder, waiting for his body to adjust.

When he felt Athos’ channel begin to relax, he drew back his hips and thrust forward. The movement pulled a strangled moan from his lover and Porthos’ tightened his grip on his hands, holding them down. He began to fuck him then, quickly falling into a steady rhythm that had both of them moaning. He knew Athos’ cock had to be aching between his legs but he held his hands in place, refusing to let him touch himself. He would be the one to make his lover spend, be it on his cock or in his hand.

“Porthos...” Athos moaned when it became clear he had no intention of letting him touch himself. His cock ached, his bollocks throbbing with each thrust of his lover’s hard cock. As much as he longed to take himself in hand, to feel Porthos controlling him so completely was nearly enough to make him spend right there.

“So tight,” Porthos whispered against his skin as he bit and sucked at his shoulder. “So good for me. You gonna spend like this? Huh? You gonna spend on my cock?”

“Yes,” Athos moaned helplessly.

“Then do it,” Porthos commanded, his own release imminent. A moment later he felt Athos’ body start to clench down again and began to thrust hard and fast, chasing his release.

“Porthos!” Athos cried out as he began to spend, his cock untouched as his seed striped the bedding beneath him.

That was enough for Porthos and he bit down hard on Athos’ shoulder as he slammed forward and began to spend, his own seed filling his lover’s clenching body.

&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M

“We can return downstairs if you like,” d’Artagnan said to Aramis as the sounds of Porthos’ and Athos’ lovemaking carried through the door. They were lying together in Aramis’ bed, Aramis’ head pillowed on d’Artagnan’s chest.

“No,” Aramis shook his head. “I am glad for them. They deserve some happiness.”

“You do not have to be made privy to their activities, though,” d’Artagnan said. “I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable.”

“I don’t,” Aramis quickly told him. “Not really. I want to be with you. I do. I just...”

“Just what?” D’Artagnan asked all but holding his breath. They had shared a few innocent kisses and Aramis had vowed to him that he did not want to lose what they had found with each other. This, however, was the closest he had come to reaching for him in such a way.

“Am afraid,” Aramis admitted ashamedly. He felt like such a coward admitting to his fear, even to d’Artagnan.

“I can understand that,” d’Artagnan said doing his best to keep his emotions locked away. To hear Aramis say he was afraid of him nearly tore his heart in half yet he knew he had no one to blame but himself. 

“It is not you,” Aramis said then sighed. “I know how inane that sounds but it is the truth. It is not you, per se, that I fear.”

“Then what is it?” D’Artagnan asked.

“I fear... I fear... the loss of control, I suppose,” Aramis said as he tried to put words to the fear that still gripped him. 

“On your part or ours?”

“Always so astute,” Aramis said with a hint of a smile. “Both really. Though truly it is more the loss of your control than my own.”

D’Artagnan closed his eyes at the pain Aramis’ words evoked. Swallowing, he opened them again and regarded the man. He could see the regret in his eyes and shook his head. Aramis should not regret his words. 

“No regrets,” d’Artagnan told him as he held him. “I will not have you regret speaking the truth of your heart.”

“You are too good to me,” Aramis said softly. He had seen the hurt in the younger man’s eyes and hated that he had caused it. 

“Not possible. But is there any way I might help you? I know you still need time and that I must earn your trust again.”

“I trust you,” Aramis said.

“Not completely. Not in this.”

“I trust you,” Aramis repeated resolutely. It was the truth. In his heart he did trust him. It was just this blasted fear he was having a hard time getting past. 

“Do you... that is... do you want to... to try again?” D’Artagnan asked hesitantly. “With me?”

“Yes,” Aramis replied quickly. He did want that. He wanted that more than almost anything. “Just... can we take things slowly?”

“As slowly as you need, love,” d’Artagnan vowed. “You and only you will dictate the pace in this.”

“In that case,” Aramis said as he pushed himself up so he could look at his lover. He saw d’Artagnan’s eyes widen, the look of want unmistakable. Telling himself this was d’Artagnan and he trusted him, he leaned back down and pressed their lips together.

D’Artagnan couldn’t hold back a moan as Aramis gently kissed him. He tried not to react too strongly, not wanting to pressure Aramis in any way. To feel him like this again, though, was intoxicating. Aramis had kissed him before but not so boldly, not lying in bed pressed together. His body had not quite calmed down after listening to their brothers make love next door and he found himself quickly growing hard. He tried to move back, to not let Aramis feel the evidence of his arousal but the man refused to let him move away, pressing against him even more insistently when he tried.

“It’s alright,” Aramis said as he pulled back once more. He could see the lust in d’Artagnan’s eyes and the sight of it made his own body react. He was surprised by the distinct lack of fear he felt as he lay in d’Artagnan’s arms. It was the opposite of what he had expected and his heart soared at the implication.

Aramis saw d’Artagnan start to speak and swooped down, covering his mouth once more. He kissed him boldly then, giving way to his desire and letting it show. As he slid his tongue between the younger man’s parted lips, he moaned. It had been so _long_ since he had been with this man and he found himself suddenly aching for him.

D’Artagnan moaned into Aramis’ mouth, his arms tightening around him. He tried to tell himself to take it slow, but the feel of Aramis like this, warm and willing in his arms, was too good to pass up. His cock was fully hard in his smalls and he could feel the same hardness pressing into his hip. That he was bringing such pleasure to his lover, that Aramis was trusting him to do so, made his heart sing even as it made him thrum with desire.

Aramis felt a heady rush as he pressed his hard cock into his lover’s hip. D’Artagnan tasted so good, so hot and spicy that it made him want to never stop tasting him. When he felt d’Artagnan’s own erection pressing insistently into him he ground against it, relishing the strangled sound it pulled from his lover.

They soon established a rhythm of sorts, grinding against each other as they moaned and kissed. Both men were quickly approaching the brink, unable to deny themselves after so long apart. Aramis was the first to reach his release, crying out into his lover’s kiss as he ground against him, his seed filling his smalls as he spent. d’Artagnan wasn’t far behind. The knowledge that he had made Aramis spend like this was enough to push him over the edge and with a shivering moan he spent as well.

Both of them were still panting when they finally separated. As Aramis pushed himself up he looked down at his lover. He couldn’t help but smile at the look of bliss on d’Artagnan’s young face. Leaning back down, he kissed him softly.

“Thank you,” Aramis said when he pulled back again.

“I should be saying that to you,” d’Artagnan replied. “That was...”

“Mmm, yes,” Aramis sighed. 

&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M

When morning came, Aramis awoke to the steady rise and fall of d’Artagnan’s chest beneath his cheek. He smiled at the feeling of contentment that washed over him as he lay there simply listening to the beat of the other man’s heart. 

“Good morning,” d’Artagnan said as he placed a kiss to the top of Aramis’ messy head. 

“Good morning,” Aramis replied, leaning up and kissing him softly on the lips.

“Last night...” d’Artagnan began but Aramis shook his head silencing him.

“Last night was wonderful,” Aramis told him. “I have missed you so much. To be back within the circle of your arms, I do not have the words.”

“Neither do I,” d’Artagnan replied, his emotions threatening to choke him. 

They fell silent then, simply laying together and enjoying being together in so intimate a manner. It had been so long for both of them that the feel of the other man was like a balm on a wound left too long untreated. 

By the time Athos and Porthos came downstairs, Aramis and d’Artagnan had breakfast all laid out. Aramis noticeably tensed when Athos came over and sat down. He silently berated himself for his reaction. His brother had done nothing wrong by simply walking into the room. This was Athos’ home as much as it was his, after all. He had no right to make things even harder on him than they already were no matter how angry he still was. 

He started to say something, to offer some sort of apology for his tactlessness but one look at Athos stopped him. His brother’s head was bowed, his eyes hidden behind the fringe of his hair, his hands clasped tightly together before him. He glanced over at Porthos but his brother shook his head and clasped Athos’ shoulder, gripping it tightly and offering what strength and support he could. 

Breakfast was a silent affair, none of them knowing what to say to break the strained tableau. D’Artagnan wanted so badly to pull the two of them aside and just shake them until they stopped this nonsense but he knew how futile a gesture that would likely be. No, this was something they would have to work out on their own. All he and Porthos could do was be there for them and try to guide them in the right direction.

“Well, we’d better get going,” Porthos said as he donned the last of his weapons.

“You two can go on,” Athos said, gesturing to Porthos and d’Artagnan. He saw Porthos frown and sighed, his face coloring at the thought of having to say this out loud. “Our escort has not yet arrived.”

“But surely the Captain does not intend...” d’Artagnan began.

“That is exactly what he intends,” Aramis said, blushing at the admission. He did not mind so much for his own sake. He could use a good dose of humility. But even he thought that this, humiliating them in front of the entire regiment, was being particularly cruel to Athos. 

Aramis managed to catch a glimpse of Athos’ face as he looked up and the abject misery he saw there made him flinch. He could see the humiliation in his eyes that even the thought of what was to come elicited. “Perhaps it would be best if you stayed at home today,” he suggested carefully. “You do not look at all well. I can explain to Treville...”

“No,” Athos said, both warmed by Aramis’ show of care and appalled at showing such utter weakness in front of him.

“Athos...” Aramis tried to argue but Athos cut him off.

“I cannot,” Athos said. “I cannot risk it. Neither of us can. The Captain has made himself plain. If we step so much as a toe out of line he will see us booted from the regiment. If I thought I would be the only one to suffer the repercussions of my actions that would be one thing. But I would not put it past him to punish you for any offense I commit and you have been punished enough for my actions already.”

“Brother,” Aramis began with a sigh, unsure what to say. In all honesty, he did not disagree with Athos. The Captain was being particularly harsh, especially to Athos. Aramis would not put it past him at the moment to punish him for Athos’ actions simply to hurt him all the more.

A knock at the door made them all go still and they looked toward the sound as one. Realizing it was likely only Samael coming to escort them to the garrison, Athos flushed anew as he balled his hands into fists and went to let him in. 

For his part, the young man tried to keep up a steady stream of chatter, though it was directed almost entirely at Athos. That fact did not go unnoticed by his brothers, causing Porthos to scowl over their heads. D’Artagnan caught his eye and shook his head letting him know he had seen it, too, but that this was not the time and place.

“Good job,” Treville called down to Samael when he arrived with his charges in tow. “Porthos, up here.”

Athos felt his face heat when Treville deliberately drew attention to their current situation. He had felt Aramis stiffen beside him then Porthos had squeezed his arm while d’Artagnan pressed in close against his back. Message received loud and clear. His brothers were with him, no matter what the Captain might do. Or at least most of them were. 

Athos had to swallow back the despair that threatened to choke him at that thought. To see everything he had made with Aramis, everything they had made together, laid to waste was killing him slowly from the inside out. It felt as if the discord between them was a cancerous seed that was slowly growing within him, eating away at the very heart and soul of him until nothing was left but that same empty shell of a man he had been before Aramis and Porthos had come along. He was not sure he could come back from that again. He was not sure he even wanted to try. 

Suddenly, Treville came back out onto the balcony with a reluctant looking Porthos beside him. “Gather round, men,” Treville called out. His eyes scanned the courtyard until they landed on Athos and his mouth turned grim. 

“I have an announcement to make,” Treville continued, turning his attention once more to the matter at hand. “Congratulations are in order. Porthos has been promoted to the rank of Lieutenant and Second-in-Command of this garrison.”

At first the yard was silent as the stunned men tried to take in what the Captain was saying. Slowly, they began to whisper among themselves, many of them casting furtive glances Athos’ way. Finally, the older more seasoned men cast off their surprise and began to applaud, congratulating Porthos loudly and pulling some of the scrutiny away from Athos. 

“You didn’t have to do it like that,” Porthos snarled in Treville’s ear.

“I was making a point,” Treville replied quietly.

“You’ve already made your bloody point. You don’t need to keep humiliating him like this.”

“He needs to understand the severity...”

“He understands,” Porthos snapped. “He’s always understood. He doesn’t need you rubbing his face in it like... like a dog that’s pissed the rug.”

“Porthos,” Treville sighed.

“You say you want me to be your second, that you trust my advice. Then trust it and back off before he breaks.”

When Porthos came down the stairs he was still angry. He had seen the embarrassment on Athos’ face, especially when his fellow Musketeers had starting whispering and looking at him. He wished he could have warned him about it but Treville had sprung it on him just that morning. And while he was damn proud of the promotion, he didn’t want it at Athos’ expense. All of this was hard enough on his brother as it was without the Captain going out of his bloody way to make things worse.

“I’m sorry,” Porthos said when he finally made it past all of the well-wishers and reached his brothers.

“You have nothing to apologize for,” Athos said. “It is us that should be congratulating you. Earning the place as Treville’s second is no small feat, my friend, believe me.”

“He didn’t have to go about it that way, though,” Porthos said. “He didn’t have to shame you like that.”

“As I said, he is not finished punishing us. Or rather me. I am sure he has a great many such incidents in store for me before he is satisfied that I have been sufficiently cowed.”

“Not if he intends for us to remain here,” Aramis said softly surprising them all. It was the strongest show of support for Athos he had given all morning. 

“Aramis?” Athos frowned, not understanding where this was suddenly coming from.

“We will not simply stand by and watch you be abused. Not by anyone, including Treville. A punishment is one thing, and he has done that. But this, today, this was excessive. Excessive and cruel. The lesson has been taught. You have not transgressed again. To heap more and more punishment on you regardless of your penance smacks of sadism.”

“Aramis...” Athos began then fell silent. He had no idea how to respond to Aramis’ heartfelt words. His brother had not spoken so ardently in his defense in a very long time. In truth, he never thought to hear him speak that way again. That he did so now left him speechless.

“I don’t think the Captain meant it to be quite as harsh as it was,” Porthos offered, hoping to keep things from getting any worse. “And he said he’d back off some. He knows he was pushing it.”

Athos was about to comment when the Captain turned his attention to them once more. “Porthos, you and d’Artagnan have your orders. Athos, see if you can work with the recruits. Aramis, I believe you have an apprentice to see to.”

Porthos couldn’t help but clench his jaw. While Aramis could withstand such and call it his penance, a fortnight of this and Athos’ spirit would be all but crushed. He didn’t understand why the Captain was being so hard on Athos. Yes, he made a mistake but he had been hurt and not thinking entirely clearly that night. And the decision had not been his alone. It made no sense that Treville was being so much harder on him than the rest of them.

“Yes, Sir,” Athos called out loudly, lest someone think he was being insubordinate by not answering his Captain. He saw Aramis clench his fists then tip his head in acknowledgment before heading toward the infirmary in search of Francois. 

“Athos...” Porthos began but Athos quickly cut him off.

“Be careful out there,” he said. “Keep an eye on each other.”

“We will,” d’Artagnan promised.

Athos watched them go with a mild sense of dread. He hated when they were separated but never more so than now. Something didn’t feel right about all of this. He was not sure what, but something was definitely off. 

Suddenly, an arm settled around Athos’ shoulders and he looked up to find Samael next to him. “Don’t look so worried. Whatever you did, I’m sure the Captain will get over it soon enough. Somebody else will do something stupid and it’ll be them in the hot seat.”

“Really?” Athos quipped, arching an eyebrow, his eyes sliding to the arm slung around his shoulders with an unseemly degree of familiarity. 

“Yes,” Samael smiled charmingly. “Now come on. Show me how good the greatest swordsman in all of France really is.” 

Aramis watched the pair from the shadows of the infirmary. As he watched, he felt an irrational wave of jealously wash over him. How dare this little upstart put his hands on Athos in such a manner? Athos was not one for such open displays unless it was from one of them. Yet Athos was not pulling away, he was not pushing Samael’s arm from his shoulder and taking him to task. Instead, he was leading him over to the practice field. 

“Something wrong?” Francois asked as he came up behind Aramis. 

“No,” Aramis said succinctly before forcing himself to turn away from the display in the courtyard and give his attention to his apprentice. “Nothing is amiss, my friend. Now what do you say about working on some of the more advanced poultices?”

The pair spent the day locked away in the infirmary where Aramis could not catch sight of Athos and Samael. Even working as they were, however, they could still hear the pair whenever they drew near the doorway, laughing and joking about one thing or another. It set Aramis’ teeth on edge every time it happened until finally Francois had enough.

“Tell me what is wrong,” he said as he set aside the bowl he had been mixing herbs in. He saw Aramis start to shake his head and gently laid his hand over the man’s arm. “Aramis, talk to me. You are obviously bothered by Samael and Athos. While I find it somewhat... grating myself, I believe there is more to it than simply your dislike of the man.”

“You don’t care for him?” Aramis asked, surprised. Francois got on with just about everyone. Another excellent trait of a medic. That he found something in Samael to put him off was telling.

“Something is not right about him,” Francois said. “I cannot say what exactly, only that he leaves me with a sense of unease. Do you not feel the same?”

“I have not been around him enough to know,” Aramis said.

“Then what else is bothering you? Is it Athos?” Francois asked gently. 

&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M

The Darkness stretched its reach, gently coiling itself around those it had chosen. It was easy to keep the Captain’s anger simmering. The betrayal he felt was simple to twist into whatever it needed. Restricting the Seminarian and his precious brother to the garrison had been perfect. It gave it unfettered access to both men without having to stretch itself beyond its means. All it had to do was keep the pressure on with the good Captain and the pair would be too busy to even notice it. 

That inattention was just what it needed in order to sink its claws into the pair as well. The other two were not in the garrison enough for it to affect them, but with Aramis and Athos both garrison-bound, it could take its time and work its way inside of them. It could not do much, not without drawing attention to itself that it could not yet afford, but it could still sow the seeds of discord among them. It could still heighten their anger and fear, making them deaf to the pleas of those around them. 

And there was always Samael.

Samael. The living embodiment of all that it was. A demon called up from the very pit to do its bidding. Precious Athos did not stand a chance against his seductive abilities. Seeing one of his brothers fall under the spell of another would only make Aramis’ anger burn that much hotter. And his despair.

Finally, time was growing short. It could feel it. Soon the Seminarian would be at its mercy, its plaything until it at last grew tired of his screams. As it pondered all of the various ways things might play out, it wondered if it might not be able to make use of Athos in the end. If Samael’s seduction of him could not be so complete as to make him take part in the Seminarian’s demise. How sweet such a betrayal would be. Aramis’ pain would be unimaginable. It was something to contemplate indeed.

&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M

By the time Porthos and d’Artagnan returned to the garrison the sky had begun to darken. Athos breathed a sigh of relief at the sight of his brothers, whole and unharmed. Aramis, in the doorway of the infirmary, did likewise. This forced separation, while not as bad as before, was still difficult to bear, especially with Aramis and Athos remaining so at odds. Their rift threw everything off and made Porthos and d’Artagnan particularly edgy, as if waiting for some unseen enemy to burst onto the scene and wreak havoc at any moment. 

“Welcome back,” Athos said, breaking away from Samael long enough to greet his brothers. 

Aramis took a step forward to do the same but Samael sidled up to Athos’ side, slotting himself into their midst like he belonged there. It was enough to stop Aramis in his tracks as he watched Athos actually pull the younger man close. His hands clenched and he felt his stomach tighten nauseatingly. For a moment, Aramis felt as if he had been thrown back in time. Back to when young d’Artagnan had first entered their midst. Athos had laughed and smiled and pulled the boy in close, welcoming him into their brotherhood. Just as he was doing now with Samael. The only difference was he had still been a part of that brotherhood then. 

Shaking his head, Aramis forced those thoughts from his mind. They would do no one any good. He knew he had a jealous nature. This was nothing more than his insecurities rearing their ugly head. He would not fall victim to that again.

“’Mis?” d’Artagnan called when he caught sight of their brother standing in the doorway watching them. The look on his face spoke volumes, none of which were good. Normally, he would have expected Aramis to have come over and insinuated himself into their midst but instead he hung back merely watching them. 

“Ah, welcome back,” Aramis said with a false note of cheerfulness. “I trust your patrol was uneventful.”

“Mostly,” Porthos said, noting how off his brother sounded. “Had a couple of dust ups but nothing we couldn’t handle.”

“You’re not hurt, are you?” Aramis asked.

“Of course not,” Samael said brazenly. “It would take more than a few miscreants to hurt the finest Musketeers in the garrison.”

Aramis had to take a breath and clamp his jaw shut tight to keep from snapping at the insipid upstart. He had no idea who they might have run into on their patrol and no way of knowing if anyone had been injured. Besides which, he had not been asking him.

“Porthos?” Aramis asked, redirecting his original question back to the man he had asked it of in the first place.

“We’re fine,” Porthos replied. “A couple of scratches but nothing you can’t take care of at home.”

“Very well then. Are we ready to go?” Aramis asked, wanting to be away from there and rid of Samael as quickly as possible.

“Just let me report in to the Captain real quick and we’ll be out of here,” Porthos said. He could see that Aramis wanted to be gone and he could only guess that the reason was the man all but hanging off of Athos at the moment. In truth, he wanted to slap his hands away from his brother as well but he knew better than to cause such a scene. As Athos had said, he and Aramis were still on thin ice. Any problems, whether caused by them or not, could have disastrous consequences for the pair.

Porthos kept his report brief and quickly rejoined his brothers. He had tried to broach the subject of this escort business but Treville refused to hear it so he had no choice but to let it be. For now, at least. Aramis had said it himself. They would only allow such degrading treatment to go on for so long and they were quickly reaching the breaking point. 

When Porthos came back down the stairs he was not surprised, though he was somewhat disheartened, to see Samael still all but draped over Athos. Aramis was keeping his distance near the infirmary, Francois by his side. One look at d’Artagnan showed him to be as frustrated as he was and as impotent. 

“Let’s go,” Porthos said a bit more gruffly than he intended.

“Indeed,” d’Artagnan seconded eagerly. He wanted to be home, away from prying eyes. And away from Samael’s sycophantic attempts to ingratiate himself to Athos.

Athos and Samael fell in behind the pair without so much as a glance toward Aramis. Aramis did his best to ignore the obvious slight as he nodded goodnight to François and fell into step behind them. He watched, his eyes riveted to the pair in front of him, as Samael threw an arm around Athos’ shoulders, drawing the man in so that their bodies brushed together as they walked. Normally, Athos would have found such a thing unbecoming even from one of them. Yet he allowed this interloper to do as he would without a word of protest.

“You should have seen Samael today,” Athos boasted. “Best recruit I think I’ve ever trained. He’ll be out on his own in no time. I’m tempted to convince the Captain to let him go with us once this punishment detail is over.”

Porthos said nothing, choosing to ignore Athos’ words. He knew they had to hurt d’Artagnan. The boy had always prided himself on Athos’ high regard for him, both as a man and as a Musketeer. To have another suddenly take one of those places had to sting. He didn’t even want to think about how Aramis had to be feeling. Seeing Athos all over the other man was bad enough but for him to suggest bringing him into their midst on what sounded like a permanent basis was too much to conceive of.

“We’ll take it from here,” Porthos said, stopping just outside their house. He didn’t know what the hell was wrong with Athos but his new boy needed to learn his place. And that place wasn’t here. This was their home and Samael had no business in it. 

“That was a bit rude, don’t you think?” Athos said once they were inside.

“No,” Porthos replied as he began shedding his weapons. 

“Is there a problem?” Athos asked defensively.

“Might be,” Porthos said as he hung up his doublet then headed for the kitchen table. “You two been hanging all over each other like that all day?”

“I have been training him today, if that is what you are asking?”

“Training him to do what, exactly?” d’Artagnan put in. “For I do not recall my training being quite so… tactile in nature.”

“What? I can’t make a new friend?” Athos spat. “Has Aramis got you both so whipped you’re afraid to even cast your eyes at another.”

“Mind your tongue,” d’Artagnan said softly, though the steel in his words was easy to hear. “Aramis has done nothing. We judge by what we see with our own eyes. And what we see troubles us.”

“How so?” Athos asked, sitting down and grabbing the bottle of wine from the center of the table. He poured himself a generous mug and drank it down before pouring himself yet another.

“Leave him alone,” Aramis said softly from the sink where he had begun preparing their dinner. 

“’Mis?” Porthos frowned.

“What has he done that is so wrong? Make a friend? Show that friend… affection? Is his life with us so restrictive that he must have our permission for such things?”

“Of course not,” Porthos replied.

“I remember what it was like when you told me I was overstepping myself with Constance. That feeling was… not a nice one. I do not wish my brothers to ever feel the same. Dinner should be ready in an hour. I believe I shall retire early.”

“You’re not going to eat?” d’Artagnan asked, dismayed. He did not like the subdued cloak that seemed to settle over his brother. It was as if he was giving up and it was not like Aramis to give up, not without a fight. 

“I am not hungry,” Aramis simply replied. He left the kitchen without another word and headed straight to his room. He paused for a moment after closing the door then bolted it as well. He did not want company tonight. His brothers, assuming any of them came after him, would only seek to console him and he did not wish to be consoled. Stripping down for bed, Aramis got out his rosary and knelt down beside the bed. Wrapping the beads around his hand, he began to pray.

&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M

Samael stood across the street watching the house. He was careful to keep to the shadows, not wanting his presence to be discovered. Extending his senses, he could feel the turmoil that swirled about the occupants inside. It would seem the priest had already run away and hid, falling to his knees and offering up his feeble prayers to a God that had no use for him. You would think Bathory would have taught him that much. 

The other two tiptoed around his chosen, like vermin around a carcass. They darted in here and there trying to get a taste, but they rarely managed to get so much as a mouthful. He had done well choosing this one. He was strong, their leader in fact. Without him to guide them, they were lost. Lost little children afraid of the monsters in the dark. He was going to enjoy ripping Athos away from them one slow, seductive kiss at a time.

He was just about ready to begin. Another few days spent in his company and he would be almost completely under his thrall. All he had to do then was get him alone. That shouldn’t prove too difficult, even with his brothers watching him like a hawk. Samael was certain Athos would agree to have dinner with him. There was nothing untoward about dinner, after all. 

&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M

The next morning was a tense one. Aramis had come down before dawn and prepared breakfast though he did not eat anything himself. For once, he had found no comfort in his prayers, as if even God had turned His back on him. It left him feeling vulnerable and off-kilter in a way that little else did and he struggled to keep his brothers from noticing. 

Even as off-kilter as he was, he did not miss the tension that surrounded Athos. Whatever had happened after he had excused himself for the night had left his brother on edge. From the way his eyes continually danced around the room, sliding from one to another of them, it felt as if Athos was expecting an attack of some sort. The very idea made Aramis frown and he looked at Porthos and d’Artagnan quizzically. 

Porthos merely shook his head when he saw Aramis looking at him. His mouth was set in a grim line as he took in the two men. Something wasn’t right about Aramis, though he was doing his best to hide it. And Athos, Athos looked both pensive and defiant all at once. Like a little boy with his hand caught in the cookie jar that even then refused to own up to his culpability. It made Porthos sick inside to wonder just what all it was Athos might need to own up to. Was there more to Aramis’ jealousy than simply his penchant for possessiveness? Was there a reason Athos did not mind Samael’s closeness, that he went so far as to seek it out? It felt like his family was crumbling around him and he could do nothing as they slipped through his fingers like so much sand. 

D’Artagnan felt utterly helpless as he watched his brothers prepare to leave. He thought about taking a moment and pulling Aramis, pulling his Little One, aside but didn’t. He did not know how soon Samael would arrive and did not trust Athos to keep that part of Aramis hidden should the man arrive early. That realization brought d’Artagnan up short and he stared in horror at his brother. When Athos started to look toward him, he quickly looked away not wanting him to see. He needed to talk to Porthos about this. He didn’t know what but something was going on with his brothers. With Athos in particular it would seem and whatever it was, it was not good.

A knock at the door made all of them start, a testament to just how tense they were. Athos ushered Samael in with a smile and a clap on the back, his silence of before giving way to a garrulousness they were unaccustomed to from him. Knowing they had no other choice, the others quickly gathered their weapons and followed the pair out the door toward the garrison. D’Artagnan moved in close to Aramis so that their hands brushed on occasion when they walked earning him a hint of a smile from the man.

“I am fine,” Aramis whispered almost too low to hear. “Do not trouble yourself with me.”

“I always trouble myself with you,” d’Artagnan told him. “You are my brother.”

“Am I?” Aramis asked, the words coming out flat and emotionless.

D’Artagnan stopped and grabbed Aramis by the arm forcing him to stop as well. “Of course you are,” he whispered earnestly. “You never stopped being my brother and you never will.”

“Even when he casts me out?”

“Athos isn’t going to cast you out,” d’Artagnan said. He gave a quick look around to make sure no one was in listening distance before continuing. “He loves you. More than anyone else in the world. He would never cast you out.”

“I would not be so sure of that. Perhaps before, when I was still a man in his eyes, but now? Do not forget, I caused this distance between us with my outburst at the Maison. Now this rift between us only grows wider.”

“We are not having this discussion in the middle of the street,” d’Artagnan said as he took Aramis by the arm and began tugging him along to catch up to the others. “But Athos isn’t casting you out. He couldn’t if he wanted to because we wouldn’t let him.”

“As you say,” Aramis replied meekly, conceding the fight for now.

At the garrison, Porthos went up to get their assignment and have a word with Treville. Aramis quickly disappeared into the infirmary with Francois, leaving d’Artagnan alone with Athos and Samael. “He certainly seems quite fond of that apprentice of his,” Samael remarked, offhandedly.

“Francois is an excellent medic and has proved himself many times over,” d’Artagnan defended, not caring for the other man’s tone. 

“My apologies,” Samael said quickly. “I meant no disrespect.”

“Don’t worry about it. D’Artagnan’s always overprotective where Aramis is concerned,” Athos said. 

“There was a time when you were, too, brother,” d’Artagnan said softly, though the rebuke was clear. 

“C’mon, Whelp,” Porthos called as he came down the stairs. “We’ve got our assignment.”

“Do be careful,” Samael called out. “It would be a shame if anything were to happen to you.”

“Porthos…” d’Artagnan started but Porthos’ hand on his neck stopped him.

“Not now, Whelp,” he whispered as he led him out through the gate.

“What is it?” d’Artagnan asked once they were far enough away that they did not have to worry about being overheard.

“This isn’t right,” Porthos said after dragging him into a corner of the nearest pub. “I tried to talk to Treville to get him to stop this business with Samael escorting them everywhere.”

“I take it things didn’t go well.”

“No,” Porthos growled. “Man wouldn’t even listen to me. I mean it was like he couldn’t even hear the words I was saying. I thought this was just Aramis being jealous, you know? But it’s more than that.”

“Agreed,” d’Artagnan said. “He worries that Athos will cast him out of our circle. He thinks he no longer counts him as a brother.”

“What? That’s the stupidest thing I ever heard,” Porthos sputtered.

“Is it?” d’Artagnan pressed. “Even I have to admit that Athos has not been treating him like a brother. Athos hasn’t been treating him like much of anything. I know he was hurt by that fight they had but they seem to be growing farther apart every day. And Samael isn’t helping matters any.”

“What’s this blasted Samael done to him?” Porthos demanded hotly.

“I don’t know,” d’Artagnan said. “But whatever it is, I don’t like it. If Athos is… enamored of it, then that is one thing. But I think there is something else at work here. Something far worse than a case of wandering eyes.”

“You don’t really think Athos would…” Porthos asked, the very thought making him sick.

“At this point, I don’t know,” d’Artagnan admitted. “I know Aramis thinks it so.”

“So what do we do?” Porthos asked, his voice thick with desperation.

“There’s not much we can do,” d’Artagnan said regretfully. “Keep an eye on them. Make sure nothing happens to him. As I said, if it is simply that Athos has grown enamored of him, well, that is one thing. But if this is the work of something other…”

“Considering what you’re saying, I almost hope it is,” Porthos said.  
   
 &M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M

Day after day passed at the garrison with Athos and Samael practically inseparable. Others had noticed the growing closeness of the pair but no one had said anything. At least not where any of them could hear. Though Aramis doubted if Athos would have cared one way or the other. The only thing Athos appeared to care about any more was Samael.

It was the end of their first week of punishment and Aramis thought he might explode. He had taken to spending his days from the time he arrived until the time he left of an evening holed up in the infirmary with Francois. He knew he was neglecting the lad’s martial training but if he ventured out into the practice yard he was liable to do something rash. As it was, just catching the glimpses of the pair that he did was enough to break his heart.

He had not meant to ruin everything. He had been angry, yes, and rightfully so in his opinion. He had thought that eventually he and Athos would work through it. It looked like Athos had other ideas. Apparently he had grown tired of attempting to work things out with Aramis. Apparently he had found someone new who was far less work. 

The worst part, Aramis thought, was having to hide both his anger and his pain from the others. He knew if he showed even a glimpse of them to Porthos or d’Artagnan that they would demand to know the whole of it. He did not think his battered pride could stand having to tell them of being replaced as not only lover but possibly brother as well.

By the time the day was drawing to a close, Aramis was fuming once more. He had watched the pair in the practice yard on and off all day unable to help himself as Treville kept summoning him for one thing or another. At one point, he began to think the man was doing it on purpose. Every time he had caught sight of Samael laughing with Athos, leaning in close to him, putting his hands on him, it made the rage inside of him burn that much brighter and the well of darkness in him yawn that much blacker. And every time he touched him, Athos welcomed his closeness, his touch. Every. Time.

“What is wrong with him?” Francois whispered disapprovingly as he, too, stared out into the yard. 

“With who?” Aramis asked dismissively, his attention glued to Athos.

“Athos,” Francois spat, unable to hide his own anger.

Aramis turned his head at that, surprised by the young man’s vehemence. Other than during ‘that time’, he had never heard him speak so about any of his brothers. To hear such anger directed at Athos puzzled him. 

“You are angry with him,” Aramis observed. “Why?”

“Why?” Francois asked incredulously before leaning in close so that no one might overhear him. “Because he flaunts that… that trollop before your very face. It is not only disrespectful but cruel as well.”

“I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Aramis said doing his best to cover his shock. He had thought Francois suspicious of them but had not thought him actually aware of their status.

“I may be young and somewhat sheltered, but I am not naïve. Nor am I blind,” Francois said gently. “And to see him treating you this way infuriates me.”

“Calm yourself, my friend,” Aramis said putting a hand on the younger man’s arm and pulling him down to sit beside him. “I am heartened by your words, truly I am. You are a good friend, indeed. But do not let Athos’ actions affect you so. Do not let them goad you. You have come a long way with a sword but you are nowhere near the swordsman he is and he is bastard enough to teach you a lesson should you challenge him.”

“But he…”

“For my sake,” Aramis said, silencing him. “If for no other reason than that.”

“Very well,” Francois conceded. “But I will be keeping an eye on him and his _friend_.”

“Be careful about that,” Aramis warned. “I do not trust Samael any more than you do. Do not let him see you watching him.”

&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M

“Porthos, stop,” d’Artagnan said as they neared the garrison on their way back from patrol.

With a sigh Porthos reluctantly did as asked. “What is it?”

“What are we going to do?” d’Artagnan asked a note of desperation in his voice.

“About what?”

“Athos,” d’Artagnan said flatly.

“I don’t know that there’s much we can do,” Porthos said. “It’s like you said before. If he’s enamored of him…”

“And this rift between him and Aramis?” d’Artagnan pressed. “I am much more concerned for it than I am for any dalliance between Athos and Samael.”

“So am I, Whelp,” Porthos admitted. “But there’s not much we can do about that either. I know Aramis has tried to approach him a couple of times at home but it’s like Athos doesn’t even see him. I never thought I’d see the day when Athos would turn his back on one of us, especially Aramis, but…”

“This isn’t right,” d’Artagnan said, his voice small and lost in a way Porthos hated to hear.

“No, it isn’t. But if Athos doesn’t want to give him a chance then there’s not much to be done for it. All we can do is try to be there for him and help him through it.”

“Do you really think Athos is going to throw him over for Samael?”

“In truth, I think he already has.”

&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M

“Your boy seems a bit put out,” Samael remarked, his mouth mere inches from Athos’ ear as they leaned against the hitching post. 

“Who? Aramis? Don’t worry about him,” Athos said dismissively, unconsciously leaning closer to Samael as they spoke. “He’s been in a snit all morning.”

“Well, if you’re not concerned with him then perhaps you would do me the pleasure of having dinner with me tonight,” Samael asked. He felt Athos stiffen slightly and carefully exuded a touch more of his allure, pulling him deeper into his thrall. 

“I, ah, I… I’d like that,” Athos finally managed, his words a bit slurred as a warm fog enveloped his mind. It sent a shudder of desire all the way through him and he had to fight to concentrate on what his companion was saying. 

“Excellent,” Samael purred extending even more of his allure. “After I escort you home then? We can drop Aramis off and then you and I can… spend some time together.”

“Alright,” Athos said, then grinned widely.

&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M

When Porthos and d’Artagnan finally walked through the gate, they found Athos and Samael sitting at their table, their heads bent in conversation. They were sitting so close their thighs were touching and their hair mingled together where they both leaned forward. Aramis was nowhere to be seen and they surmised he had sought shelter in the infirmary as far away from Athos and this blatant display as he could possibly get.

Not wanting d’Artagnan to have to deal with the pair of them on his own, Porthos sent him up to give the Captain their report while he gathered his charges. One loud bark of his voice had Athos and Samael jumping apart like a pair of scalded cats. It would have brought a smile to his face if he wasn’t so angry about it in the first place. As for Aramis, he materialized in the doorway of the infirmary a moment later, Francois standing protectively by his side. Porthos had to give the boy credit for that. If nothing else, Aramis wasn’t having to deal with this on his own.

All during the walk home, d’Artagnan and Porthos stayed especially close to Aramis. Porthos thought it really didn’t make much different as Athos and Samael were in their own little world. Athos spent the entire trip regaling the man about past recruits, keeping him laughing all the way to the house. While normally Porthos would have found the stories funny, tonight they grated on his nerves. In truth he wasn’t sure what bothered him more, the sound of Athos’ voice or that of Samael’s laughter. 

“Okay, we got it from here,” Porthos said once they’d reached the front door. 

“Ah, um, you all go ahead,” Athos said, rubbing at the back of his neck and looking every bit the guilty child. 

“I beg your pardon?” Porthos replied.

“Athos has agreed to accompany me to dinner,” Samael said, smiling widely. He let his eyes shift to Aramis and could not keep the smugness from his grin when the man actually flinched. “We’ll try not to be out too late.”

In the end, all they could do was watch as Athos and Samael turned and continued down the road, leaving the three of them standing there staring after them. It was Aramis who broke from his paralysis first and shooed them inside lest they make any more of a spectacle of themselves than they already had. 

Dinner was a quiet affair. No matter how hard they tried to draw Aramis into conversation he resisted. Even asking about Francois garnered only the most cursory of responses. Not that they could blame him. Watching Athos flaunting what by all evidence could only be cited as a new lover in their very faces was enough to quell the enthusiasm of any of them.

&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M

Athos was nervous. He had not gone on such an outing as this with anyone save his brothers in years. He was not altogether sure why he was here now. He knew he was spending entirely too much time with Samael but every time he went to pull back, something always stopped him. He recalled Samael asking him to dinner and the intense desire to please him that had compelled him to agree. Now, however, he was having second thoughts. For even as wrapped up as he had been in his new friend, he had not missed the looks on his brothers’ faces. Especially Aramis. 

“I think perhaps it is time we called it an evening,” Athos said once dinner was finished.

“So soon?” Samael replied coyly. 

“Duty calls early I am afraid,” Athos smiled apologetically. 

“Well at least allow me the privilege of walking you home,” Samael said. 

“That really isn’t...” Athos began only for that sudden feeling of warmth to envelope him once again. Shaking his head he smiled at his companion. “Well, if you insist.”

They walked through the darkened streets, paying little mind to where they were going. Eventually they found themselves in one of the seedier areas. Without warning, Samael grabbed Athos and pulled him into a nearby alley. He shoved him up against a wall and used his body to pin him in place. He saw Athos start to protest and covered him with his allure, pulling him into his thrall as deeply as he could. 

Samael smiled when he saw Athos’ eyes go dark with desire. Leaning forward, he covered the other man’s mouth, taking advantage of his surprise to press his tongue inside. He felt Athos start to sag and pressed against him even harder, holding him pinned to the wall. He could feel Athos’ hardness digging into his hip, testament to the power of his seduction. 

Samael continue to kiss Athos, sucking and biting at his lips until they were red and swollen. He wanted there to be no doubt as to what the man had been up to when he returned home. If he still had a home to return to after this. The thought made him chuckle and he thrust his tongue into Athos’ mouth deeply as he began to run his hands up and down his body, caressing him possessively. 

Suddenly, a clatter and bang from the mouth of the alley startled both men making them gasp. In that moment, Athos felt his head clear and he stared at Samael in horror. Shoving the man away from him, he stumbled from the alley and into the street. Glancing up and down frantically, he tried to get his bearing. He needed to get home. Now. 

Long minutes later, Athos finally found his way and began running. He had no idea what he was going to say to his lovers. The only thought in his mind was that he needed to get to them. Everything else could be worked out after that. He hoped.


	30. Chapter 30

All three men jumped when Athos came stumbling through the back door. Aramis took one look at him and had to turn away, his marksman’s eye taking in every little detail. In that single glance he saw the disheveled clothes, the kiss swollen lips and, most damning of all, the guilt in his eyes. It was everything he never wanted to see and it made his heart shrivel in his chest. 

“What the fuck?” Porthos snarled, taking in the state of his lover. 

“Leave him be, Porthos,” Aramis said softly as he went to the stove to make some tea. He knew he could probably benefit more from wine but he hoped the tea might calm him. The yawning pit in his stomach felt like it was going to swallow him whole. 

“What?”

“Leave him be,” Aramis repeated. “He has obviously had an... eventful night. Would anyone care for some tea?”

“Aramis?” Athos called, confused by his lover’s subdued reaction. 

“Have you taken him for a lover now?” Aramis asked softly as he continued to busy himself with the tea thinking it best to simply get everything out in the open. 

“What? No! Of course not,” Athos shook his head. 

“You will need to be careful,” Aramis advised as if he had not heard him. “He seems like the possessive type. He may not deal well with finding out that Porthos and d’Artagnan are more than simply your brothers.”

“What are you talking about?” Athos demanded, more confused than ever by Aramis’ words. “Why would you even... Aramis, please. Look at me, damn it!”

“What do you want from me?” Aramis snapped, suddenly spinning around and hurling the cup he had been preparing across the room to smash against the far wall. “I know you no longer see me as a man and likely never will again. I know you no longer wish me for your lover. I will learn to make my peace with that. But to take another lover right under my nose. To rub my face in it. Do you truly despise me so much now?”

“Despise you? Aramis, no! No, I swear,” Athos said desperately. “He isn’t my lover. I haven’t...”

“You’ve obviously done something,” Porthos put in, his arms crossed and his eyes shuttered.

“He... he kissed me,” Athos said flushing in shame. “No. No, that isn’t right. We kissed. He drug me into an alley and kissed me but I allowed it. Kiss is all we did though. Nothing more, I swear it. I swear it on my love for you.”

“Love for me?” Aramis laughed hollowly. “Hah! You would do as well to swear it on the Cardinal. Your love for me is but a dream turned to ash.”

“Aramis, please,” Athos begged.

Porthos moved closer to his brother, laying his hand on Aramis’ shoulder in silent support. He was surprised when Aramis flinched and jerked away, his hand going to his bare throat where his collar would normally be without thought.

“Enough of this,” Aramis spat and headed for the door.

“Where’re you going?” Porthos asked.

“To get some air,” Aramis said over his shoulder as he slammed out of the house.

“Follow him,” d’Artagnan said to Porthos. He had remained quiet up until now, taking in everything that was being said as well as everything that wasn’t.

Porthos hesitated then nodded and took off after Aramis leaving d’Artagnan alone with Athos. D’Artagnan went to the stove and turned the kettle off then poured them both a generous mug of wine. “So,” he said as he handed a mug to Athos. “What happened?”

Athos took the mug gratefully and drained it. Setting it back on the table, he regarded the young man sitting next to him. “I don’t know,” he finally said. “We went to dinner. After a while I became anxious to return home. I realized I had erred in agreeing to dinner in the first place. Things get a bit fuzzy after that.”

“Fuzzy how?” D’Artagnan asked.

“Samael suggested a walk and I was suddenly all for it,” Athos said. “I’ve no idea why. But I wanted to go with him. When he pulled me into that alley, I didn’t fight him. I kissed him back. If we hadn’t been startled by that noise...”

“What are you saying?”

“That I have no idea how far I would have let things go,” Athos admitted. “It was like I was drunk on the richest of wines. Everything was hazy and warm and I didn’t want it to stop.”

“So you’re saying you would have let him fuck you,” d’Artagnan asked.

“I’m saying I would have done whatever he wanted me to,” Athos replied. “No matter who it hurt.”

“That does not sound like you, brother,” d’Artagnan said. Part of him was livid with Athos over what he had done, not just to Aramis but to all of them. But a bigger part was scared for him. This didn’t sound like a simple case of lust. This sounded like something else, something worse. Much worse. 

“No, it doesn’t,” Athos agreed. Long seconds of heavy silence passed before Athos drew up the courage to speak again. “So tell me, do you hate me now, as well?”

“No one hates you, brother,” d’Artagnan said.

“I believe Aramis would beg to differ,” Athos replied.

“Aramis is angry and scared. And hurt. I’d say he’s hurt most of all. Do not take his words too much to heart.”

“He thinks I purposely rubbed my growing relationship with Samael in his face to spite him. He thinks I did that. How can he think such a thing and not hate me?”

“As I said, he is hurt and scared. He thought he was losing you and it was happening right in front of his eyes yet there was nothing he could do to stop it.”

“Why didn’t he at least try?” Athos asked.

“You don’t remember?” D’Artagnan responded.

“No,” Athos shook his head.

“You got somewhat defensive whenever anyone questioned Samael. And there was not much to do about him. The Captain had assigned him as your escort so he had to put up with him.”

“I see. And he would never have gone to the Captain about him for fear of making matters worse for us.”

“Exactly. He was rather stuck. We tried to do what we could but...”

“But with us being bound to the garrison and you being on patrol there was little to be done for it,” Athos said wryly. “Whatever his game, he certainly played it well.”

“His game, I believe, was to get you,” d’Artagnan said. “For whatever reason, he sought to fracture our brotherhood and chose you as the means to do so.”

“But why? To what end?” Athos asked.

“I don’t know but I fear something other may be afoot here. Too many things have gone on to not question it. First there is Treville’s behavior. Even angry, his continued punishment of you has been excessive to the point of cruelty. Now there is this Samael. I fear something evil is once more within our midst and this time it has set its sights on you.”

“Why me?” Athos asked, unable to refute d’Artagnan’s logic.

“What better way to drive Aramis to his very knees than to steal the bedrock from beneath his feet,” d’Artagnan replied.

&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M

“I will not bite,” Aramis called out softy from the tree he was leaning against.

“Sorry, ‘Mis,” Porthos said. “Just didn’t want you going off alone right now.”

“That’s alright. All things considered, it’s probably a good idea.”

“You okay?” Porthos ventured.

“Not even remotely,” Aramis replied. “He chose that... that whore over us. Us. His brothers. His family.”

“We don’t know all the facts,” Porthos offered, though even to him it sounded hollow. In all honesty, he was furious at Athos, too, raging at the man wouldn’t solve anything. First they needed to find out exactly what went on. 

“What more is there to know?” Aramis countered. “I can understand it where I am concerned. After everything, well... But what he has done to you and d’Artagnan is unforgivable.”

“I thought everything was forgivable,” Porthos said, choosing to let Aramis’ comment about himself go for now. 

“Not everything,” Aramis told him. “Not throwing away the faith and fidelity of your brothers for some vapid little trollop.”

“Hey, come on. We don’t know everything yet,” Porthos tried again. “Let’s at least hear him out before we pass judgment.”

“You disagree with me?” Aramis asked, surprised.

Porthos sighed and ran a tired hand through his hair. “Not really,” he answered truthfully. “But I still think there’s more going on than we know about. Athos wouldn’t just throw away everything we’ve built together over a piece of ass. You and I both know that.”

“You are right,” Aramis agreed. “Though that knowledge does very little to quell my mounting anger. As I said, were it solely directed at me, I could understand it, but this...”

“No,” Porthos shook his head vehemently. “He’s got no right directing any of this at you, either. You done nothing wrong, ‘Mis.”

“On the contrary, I am the one that created this rift between the two of us to begin with,” Aramis replied. “And you must admit that Athos does not treat me as he used to any longer. He does not treat me as a man worthy of walking by his side. He treats me as if I am broken. As if...”

“Hey,” Porthos whispered as he reached out and pulled Aramis against him. “He doesn’t mean to. He just... he nearly lost you. We all did. I think that’s left a bigger mark on him than he’s let on.”

“So what? I should simply ignore it when he brings whores home to flaunt in our very faces?”

“That’s not what I’m saying,” Porthos said patiently. Aramis’ emotions were all over the place tonight, easily taking his words and twisting them into something else entirely.

“I know. I’m sorry. I am just so _angry_. How dare he do this to us?” Aramis felt his rage roiling inside of him, growing hotter with every passing second. He thought Athos had loved him, loved them, but his actions did not speak of love. They spoke of disregard and betrayal. They spoke of utter contempt. 

“Hey, come on. We don’t know the whole story,” Porthos said again. “We won’t know it until we go back in there and sit down and talk to Athos. We have to give him a chance to explain himself before we go jumping to conclusions.”

“I do not know if I can do that,” Aramis admitted. “I do not know if I can go in there and calmly sit and listen to him explain away his infidelity.”

“I’m going to be right there beside you the whole time,” Porthos told him. “And so is the Whelp.” He knew there would be no working this out until they managed to get everyone in a room and talking. Aramis might not like what it was Athos had to say but he needed to sit down and listen to it anyway. Only then could they start trying to make sense of this mess and figure out where to go from there.

He knew right now it was Aramis’ pain and fear talking. That no matter what he said, there was nothing Athos could do that Aramis would not forgive. If he had taken the other man to his bed, it would certainly wound him as it would wound them all. But Aramis would find a way to forgive him. He was not going to walk out on the love of his life over a one night stand no matter how angry he was. 

“What are you thinking?” Aramis asked when Porthos had fallen quiet beside him.

“I am thinking about you,” Porthos admitted, sliding his arm around Aramis’ shoulders. “About your endless capacity for forgiveness regardless of the sin.” He felt Aramis stiffen as if to protest and tightened his arm around him. “I know he has wounded you greatly. Even if nothing happened, he has still hurt you by his actions. Yet, I also know that you are not going to let Athos go without a fight.”

“Why would I fight for him after what he has done? Besides, I do not think Athos wishes me to fight for him any longer,” Aramis said, his voice suddenly small. 

“Because you love him more than anything. He is the love of your life, Aramis. Just as you are his.”

“But you...”

“I am your soul mate, yes,” Porthos said. “But that doesn’t make me what Athos is to you. It’s confusing, I know. It took me a while to figure it all out in my head but I’ve had some time lately to really think about it.”

“You truly believe this?” Aramis asked, awed by Porthos’ perception of the situation. His perception and his apparent acceptance.

“Yeah, I do. I might complete you but that doesn’t change the fact that your heart cries out for Athos.”

“I love you so much, my Porthos,” Aramis said as he turned and pulled him into an embrace.

Porthos hesitated for a moment then returned the embrace doing his best not to moan at the feel of Aramis in his arms once more. “No more than I do you,” he said. “You are my life. Without you, I would wither and die.”

“I am here, my love.”

“As a brother,” Porthos countered. 

“As whatever you need me to be,” Aramis told him.

“As my brother,” Porthos stated firmly. “I need my brother back. Sometime, when we are all stronger, perhaps we can speak of more. For now, though, I just need my brother by my side.”

“Then you shall have him,” Aramis said. “Just know that he loves you a very great deal.

“I’ll keep telling myself that,” Porthos said. “Now, do you think you’re ready to head back inside so we can all talk this out or do you need more time?”

“I shall never be ready,” Aramis said. “But I am as calm as I am likely to get so we may as well get this over with.”

With one hand on his shoulder, Porthos guided Aramis back into the house. He was somewhat surprised to see both men still seated around the kitchen table, having expected them to adjourn to the sitting room. Trying to hide his surprise, he pressed Aramis down in the chair directly across from Athos. It would give him the most unrestricted view of the man but would also keep them the farthest apart should things turn physical. 

“I can restrain myself,” Aramis said softy. “There is no need to fear.”

“I know you can,” Porthos said as he sat down to the side of him. “We all do.”

“I am not so sure of that,” Aramis said softly.

“We do,” d’Artagnan said firmly. “We know you are angry and rightly so but we also know you will do none of us harm. Even Athos. Especially Athos.”

“I...” Athos began then trailed off. “In truth, I do not know how you can even sit here at this table with me after what I have done.”

“Well then why don’t you tell us what you done so we can decide for ourselves,” Porthos suggested. He saw d’Artagnan tense then force himself to relax. 

“Very well,” Athos said. He reached out and took up the empty mug before him with shaking hands. He tried not to think about the consequences of his actions. He was not a fool, though. Once Aramis found out what he had done, he would likely find himself cast out, this time for good.

“It started when he asked me to dinner. I didn’t really want to go. And... and then I did,” Athos began, trying to explain his actions and what had driven him to them. Not that he thought it would do any good but he still wanted his brothers to know. 

“What changed your mind?” D’Artagnan asked, hoping to make his brothers see that there was something more at play here than simply Athos’ roaming eyes.

“I don’t know,” Athos shrugged. “Suddenly I just... wanted to.”

“Go on,” Porthos said gruffly, drawing them back to the conversation at hand. He could tell the lad was trying to lead them to something but he’d rather hear it from Athos’ own mouth first.

“I went to dinner with him. I knew it was a mistake before the meal was even done. I tried to call it a night, but he insisted on a walk. I knew no way to refuse without giving offense so agreed. We walked for some time and then suddenly, he jerked me into a darkened alleyway. Before I could stop him he was kissing me. For a moment, I was stunned. I started to push against him, meaning to push him away then...”

“Then what?” Porthos asked.

“Then I felt a shudder run trough me and all I could think of was how much I wanted him,” Athos admitted shamefully. “How much I wanted to please him. I would have... would have done anything... I’m so sorry. Please, you have to know, I never meant for this.”

“Most never do,” Aramis said, his voice soft and reserved.

“Do you hate me now?” Athos asked. He knew it was a stupid question. Of course Aramis did. He could hear it in his voice, see it in the way he held himself, stiff and unyielding. His life had not been on this much of a downward spiral since he’d had his wife hung. In the space of a month, he had lost his rank, his lovers and most likely his brothers as well.

“No,” Aramis said after long, tense seconds of silence. “Actually, I am not sure what I feel at the moment.”

“Do you want me to leave?” Athos asked, the pain in his voice palpable. 

“No,” Aramis shook his head after a moment. “This is your home as much as it is ours. You have every right to be here.”

“So just like that you’re going to forgive him?” Porthos asked, the disapproval in his voice clear. “I thought you said what he did was unforgivable.” He’d had to fight for months to earn even a fraction of his brother’s forgiveness yet Athos... As soon as he thought it, Porthos admonished himself. Athos may have done wrong, may have hurt all of them, but he had not raped his lover nor had he struck him. If Aramis chose to forgive him that was his right and he had no business questioning it. 

“You knew I was lying when I said it. Come now, Porthos, was there ever really any doubt?” Aramis replied tiredly. 

“Even if he took him to his bed?” Porthos pressed.

“Even then,” Aramis replied. “I know my place. I may not like it but I accept it.”

“I didn’t! I swear to you I did not betray you like that.”

Suddenly d’Artagnan’s voice broke in, unable to remain silent any longer. “Don’t you find this at all strange?”

“How do you mean?” Aramis asked.

Reaching out, he clasped Athos’ arm, squeezing it. “Based on what he has told me as well as what he has said here, I believe there is more going on than we realize.”

“And what do you mean by more?” Aramis asked.

“His memories of his encounters with Samael are fuzzy. First he doesn’t want to go with him, then it’s the best idea he’s ever heard. You heard him. He did not want his advance until suddenly he was dying for it.”

“You think he is being manipulated,” Aramis said, eying the pair.

“Yes. I am just unsure by what.”

“This Samael doesn’t strike me as all that charming,” Porthos said doubtingly.

“He isn’t,” Aramis agreed. “But he wouldn’t need to be. Not if he had help.”

“You’re talking about the Darkness,” Porthos spat, his stomach tightening in fear at the thought.

“Yes,” Aramis said calmly.

“Seems awful convenient if you ask me. Besides, why would the Darkness go after Athos. I thought it wanted you.”

“And do you know of a better way to get me?” Aramis asked. “Or at the very least cripple me? Just because it is evil doesn’t make it stupid. And it has been studying me. It knows... it knows what losing Athos would do to me.

“If the Darkness has returned, then we need to be on our guard,” Aramis continued. “All of us.”

“Do you truly believe that is the case or are you simply make excuses for me?” Athos asked. He was gripping the empty mug tightly in his hands lest they start to shake. He was not sure he wanted to know the answer to his question. His brothers were giving him a way out. He would be wise to shut his mouth and take it.

“Why do you question it?” Aramis asked in response, surprised. He looked his brother up and down, his eyes narrowing as he studied him. Athos was pale, like he’d come off a three-day drunk. Even gripping the mug as tightly as he was Aramis could still see the fine tremor in his hands. His eyes were the worst, though. His eyes were... bleak. Destitute in a way that he had never seen before. It made his own insides go cold at the thought of what all his brother must be feeling to show such utter desolation.

“Because if you are, then I would not have you do it,” Athos forced himself to say. “I know what I have done. I know that I have betrayed you, that I have broken every bond of trust left between us. By rights, I should not even be at this table right now.”

“Where do you think you should be?” Aramis asked. This conversation was not going the way he had envisioned it. While he was still angry, Athos’ behavior was starting to worry him. Athos and depression were old friends. Aramis didn’t want to see him fall victim to it because of this. He was struggling with it enough himself.

“Out on the streets,” Athos said wryly, “with the rest of the gutter trash.”

“Stop it,” Porthos snapped. “We got no use for your self-pity.”

“Porthos,” Aramis admonished softly.

“What?” 

“Leave him be,” Aramis said just as he had before. 

“Come again?” Porthos said, shocked that Aramis was defending him.

“I said leave him be,” Aramis repeated. “We have all been through a very trying evening. D’Artagnan, do you truly believe the Darkness had something to do with this? That Samael was somehow influencing him these last days?” 

“I do,” d’Artagnan said, though he would give anything, even face the prospect of Athos’ infidelity, than have that be true. “The things Athos told me he did, they were not the actions of our brother. I believe that with all that I am.”

“We need to speak with Michel. And Treville,” Aramis said, his heart starting to pound with the implications of what this might mean.

“I’m not so sure about Treville,” d’Artagnan ventured.

“Why not?” Aramis asked.

“He’s not been acting right either,” d’Artagnan said. “His continued punishment of you. His insistence that Samael remain all but glued to Athos’ side. I fear the Darkness has somehow gotten its hooks into him as well.”

“Trying to work around Treville, that’s going to be difficult,” Porthos said. “He’s not going to budge on the Samael thing. I know, I’ve already tried to talk to him about more than once.”

“That... man or whatever he is, is not getting near Athos again,” Aramis said flatly. “I shall run interference myself if I have to. Treville wanted me to help train the recruits as well after all.”

“No,” Athos said, his eyes going wide. “No, I don’t want you anywhere near him. Not if he’s in league with the Darkness.”

“I will not allow him to continue to hurt you,” Aramis said firmly.

Athos had to close his eyes at the wealth of feeling Aramis’ words garnered. Even after his betrayal his brother was still willing to put himself at risk to protect him. By rights, they should have thrown him out of the house and been rid of him. 

“Athos?” Aramis called when his brother continued to sit with his eyes squeezed shut.

“Why do you protect me so when all I do is bring you pain?”

“First, that is not all you do. But to answer your question, because you are my brother,” Aramis replied. “I would die for you. Have you hurt me? Yes. But if we are correct, none of that was your fault.”

“And if you’re wrong?”

“Then it changes very little.”

“I’m so sorry. All of you. I know I hurt you all with what I did. I don’t have the words...”

“Let’s not worry about that right now,” Porthos said, not wanting to hear Athos gush out yet another apology. “We got bigger fish to fry if the Darkness is back and setting its sights on Aramis again.”

“Agreed,” Aramis said. 

“It’s late and we’re all tired,” D’Artagnan put in. “Let’s try to get some sleep. In the morning we can figure out what to do about Samael to keep him away from Athos and Aramis both.”

As they headed for the stairs, Athos hesitated. He still felt sick inside at what he had very nearly done, at what he had, in fact, done. What right did he have to join his brothers in their bed? He should be grateful they had not thrown him from the house as he deserved. 

“Athos?” d’Artagnan called when he noticed his hesitation.

“I believe I will sleep down here tonight,” he said, swallowing against the lump in his throat. He had to lock his knees in place against the pain of those words lest he collapse right there. He did not think he had slept alone since taking his brothers to his bed. Even in the early days, young d’Artagnan had always been by his side, bolstering him. Now, he could hardly bring himself to meet the lad’s eyes he was so ashamed of himself.

“Athos,” d’Artagnan said long-sufferingly. “We do not begrudge you your place among us. You are welcome to share our bed, brother.”

“Not by all of you, I’m not,” Athos pointed out. He could practically feel the anger radiating off of Porthos. He was not sure if he was simply angry for Aramis’ sake or for his own as well and it would likely be some time before he found out. In the meantime, he would not force his presence on the man. 

“You are welcome in our bed,” d’Artagnan said again, a bit more forcefully this time, his eyes glancing about the others in the room to ensure his point.

“Lad’s right,” Porthos said gruffly. “And like Aramis said, it’s your home as much as ours.”

“Porthos…” d’Artagnan sighed, squeezing the bridge of his nose. 

“Do not admonish him,” Athos said softly. “He is only speaking the truth of his heart. I have wounded him. And more importantly to him, I have wounded Aramis. Those actions will take time to forgive, if such a thing is even possible. I will take Constance’s vacant room. I bid you gentlemen sleep well.”

With no more than that Athos turned and headed for the small bedroom. He lit the lamp on the dresser and turned it to low. Even the soft glow of the flame could do little to chase away the sense of gloom he felt. For when Constance had been here, the room had been bright and cheery. Now, it felt as cramped and solitary as a tomb.

“We’re not seriously going to just leave him down here alone, are we?” Aramis asked when Porthos turned to head up the stairs once more.

“Why not? It’s what he wants,” Porthos said.

Aramis narrowed his eyes and looked at his brother. He did not know what was wrong with Porthos but he intended to find out. This was not the man who had stood outside and told him to give Athos a chance, to hear him out before passing judgment. Something had changed and Aramis wanted to know what.

“No,” d’Artagnan said, breaking the sudden silence. “I’ll stay downstairs on the sofa. I’d never sleep with him alone down here. At least this way if he needs someone, I’ll be close.”

“You’re a good man, d’Artagnan,” Aramis said, stroking the side of his face lovingly.

“I love him,” d’Artagnan shrugged. “Now you two go on and try to get some sleep. I have a feeling tomorrow’s going to be a busy day.”

Aramis followed Porthos into the master bedroom, careful to close the door behind them. The last thing he wanted was for their conversation to be overheard. For a moment, he watched Porthos as he prepared for bed, noting the tenseness in his back and shoulders. 

“What is going on with you?” Aramis asked softly.

“Don’t know what you mean,” Porthos replied without turning around.

“Yes, you do,” Aramis said just as quietly. “You all but beg me to give him a second chance, to listen to him then when I do you grow angry over it. I do not understand.”

“I’m not angry about you forgiving him,” Porthos said throwing his shirt down then coming over to sit next to Aramis on the side of the bed. “Alright, I am. I am angry about you forgiving him.”

“Why? I thought that was what you wanted.”

“I did but…”

“But?”

“But not like that! Not like nothing ever happened! I’ve had to scramble and scratch for months to earn even a fraction of your forgiveness and he gets forgiven just like that?”

“Oh, love,” Aramis said. He reached out and took Porthos’ hands in his and simply held them. “You never had to fight for my forgiveness. You had that from the very beginning.”

“Didn’t seem like it,” Porthos mumbled. 

“Then I am sorry for I should never have let you think I had not forgiven you. I love you, Porthos. I will always forgive you. Just as I will always forgive Athos.”

Holding onto Aramis’ hands, Porthos took a chance and slowly pulled him forward until he was holding him. “I know it ain’t the same. I know what I did was so much worse. But to see you forgive him just like that, like he hadn’t just betrayed you…”

“No, I understand,” Aramis said as he wrapped his arms around the other man and held onto him. “I am sorry. I did not mean to hurt you.”

“Don’t apologize for being you, love. I’m the one that got jealous.”

“Will you try to talk to him in the morning?” Aramis asked. He had seen the desolate look in Athos’ eyes and knew part of that had been due to Porthos’ reaction.

“I can talk to him now if you think he’d listen,” Porthos offered.

“No, let him get what rest he can. Come the morning you can speak with him.”

As it was, they all ended up in separate beds that night. Porthos had been reluctant to let Aramis go but he had understood. The day had been a trying one and his brother needed his space to get his feet back under him. There had been a time when he would have turned to them for that and had they all been together he might have. Soon, Porthos promised himself. Soon his brother would know he could trust him without reservation again. Then they could begin to rebuild.

&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M

Smothering the lamp, Athos lay down on the small bed. He thought he heard someone moving about in the sitting room but paid it no mind. Lying there in the darkness, he tried not to think about all he had done. How could he have betrayed these men? These men had given him his life back when he hadn’t even realized he wanted it. And how did he repay them? By betraying them. By being _unfaithful_ of all things! He, who had never had a wandering eye when he was married, he, who had looked upon Aramis with disdain for his flirtatious nature, yet he was the one who had strayed. He was the one who had come within heartbeats of taking another to his bed, of violating the sanctity of his body with that of another. One who was very much not his brother. 

Lying there, he felt the stress and upheaval of the day slowly dragging him toward sleep. He did not want to go for he knew he would find no rest there. His treacherous mind would not allow it. It would continue to punish him for the pain he had caused his family. Maybe, Athos mused as sleep finally pulled him under, it was right to.

_Athos pounded on the door as the wind whipped the rain around him, soaking him to the skin. His hat had long since been lost but he didn’t care. All he cared about were the men on the other side of the door. His brothers. He redoubled his efforts, pounding on the door until the wood ran red with his blood, but still no one came. Suddenly, the door was yanked open, the move so abrupt that Athos nearly staggered and fell. Looking up, he saw Porthos’ thunderous face and blanched._

_“Well?” Porthos demanded angrily. “What do you want?”_

_“Porthos? Could you not hear me?” Athos asked confused._

_“Of course we could hear you. The bloody deaf could hear you,” Porthos bellowed. “Now what do you want?”_

_“To… to come inside,” Athos said, fear churning in his belly. “The door… it was locked.”_

_“That’s because we had them changed,” d’Artagnan said as he came over to join Porthos. If anything d’Artagnan looked even angrier than Porthos. “You need to leave. You aren’t welcome here anymore.”_

_“What?” Athos gasped._

_“You heard him,” Porthos spat._

_“Here,” Aramis said, pushing his way between his two brothers._

_For one beautiful second Athos thought he might get a reprieve then he saw what it was Aramis held in his hands. A beggars blanket and a chunk of bread. Before Athos could say anything Aramis pushed them into his hands and stepped back._

_“Now take them and go,” Aramis said. “This is no longer your home.”_

_Suddenly everything changed and Athos found himself standing in the middle of a sun dappled three-way junction. As he turned he saw his brothers, each standing around him on a different road with their backs to him. As he called out, they began to walk away down whatever road they were on. He tried calling out to them again but they kept walking as if they had not heard._

_Unwilling to let his family go without a fight, Athos raced after them. He ran after Aramis, knowing his brother would always hear him out. Reaching him, he grasped him by the shoulder and forced him around to face him. What he saw made him cry out and fall back, landing hard on the ground as the eyeless thing turned and continued down the road as if it had never stopped._

Athos woke with a strangled moan, tears streaming down his face. He flailed for the lamp he had set beside him and lit it with shaking hands. Once he could see again, he realized he was still in the downstairs bedroom of their home, that it had been nothing more than a horrid dream. All at once, sobs began to wrack his body and he shoved his hand into his mouth to muffle the sound of them as the realization of all he still stood to lose hit him. 

&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M

Porthos slid into bed with a sigh, thinking that it was entirely too big even for a man of his stature. It felt wrong to be here alone. It left him feeling like something was missing. Something was missing. His brothers. That was what was missing. But Athos had was doing his sackcloth and ashes routine in the downstairs bedroom and the Whelp hadn’t wanted to leave him alone. Porthos could understand that. And Aramis… Aramis had needed his space. After everything that had happened tonight, he could understand that, too. He just wished it was different. 

At least he wasn’t angry at Athos anymore. Or not as angry. He was still pissed at him for what he had done to all of them, especially Aramis but he would get over that. It had been his jealousy that had fueled most of his earlier anger and he had managed, with Aramis’ help, to let that go. Now it was time to let everything else go and try to get some rest. He wanted to be up and out of here long before Samael showed up to escort the pair to the garrison, Treville’s orders be damned. Yawning, Porthos settled in to sleep and was soon snoring softly. 

_Porthos looked around the sitting room, checking for the fifth time that everything was just right. He had been waiting for this day for so long and now that it was finally here he almost didn’t know what to do. He’d had Aramis’ ring polished until it shined like it was brand new. He’d had Hugo put it in a box and everything this time. It was time. It was time to finally get his lover back._

_When Aramis walked into the sitting room, Porthos held his breath. He took in the way his lover stopped and looked about, taking in the candles he had set out over every surface he could find. The entire room was aglow with a soft, warm light._

_“Porthos?” Aramis called cautiously._

_“Hey,” Porthos said as he stood up and rubbed his sweaty hands down the front of his pants. He crossed the room to his soon-to-be lover and reached for him, but Aramis drew back. That was the first indication that his plan was not going quite the way he’d hoped it would._

_“What is all this?” Aramis asked frowning._

_“It’s for you,” Porthos said, somewhat embarrassed at having to explain. He would have thought Aramis would have simply known._

_“For me? What for?” Aramis asked, taken aback._

_“I, uh, that is…”_

_“Come now, Porthos, what is all this about?” Aramis asked, the snap in his voice easy to hear._

_“I wanted to ask you something,” Porthos managed to say. “Will you sit with me on the sofa?”_

_“Very well,” Aramis said sounding put out but agreeing nevertheless. “Now what is this all about?” Aramis demanded once they were sitting._

_Porthos didn’t speak, instead he picked up the box from the table and handed it to Aramis. Aramis opened the box and blinked at the ring nestled inside of it. He looked up at Porthos then back down at the ring. Without a word, he snapped the box shut and placed it back down on the table._

_“Aramis?” Porthos asked, his stomach knotting painfully at his brother’s obvious rejection._

_“I’m sorry, Porthos. I know this isn’t how you wanted this to go but I just can’t. Not now. Had you come to me before perhaps but now? After all this time? I’m sorry, but my answer is no.”_

_Without warning, the scene changed. Porthos was no longer sitting on the sofa. He was standing in the middle of a three-way junction. His brothers stood around him with their heads bowed, one on each road, a set of chains held in their hands._

_“What’s going on here?” Porthos asked as he slowly turned, doing his best to keep everyone in sight but knowing it was impossible._

_As soon as he had his back to Athos they moved. Athos took him from behind, going high, while d’Artagnan and Aramis both went low, taking his feet out from under him. Porthos roared as they brought him down, doing his best to fight them off without hurting them. They, however, were not so gentle and a sharp rap across the temple with one of the chains left him dazed. By the time he’d regathered his senses, they had him chained down like an animal, his arms spiked to the ground and pointing down one road and his legs each pointing down another._

_“What’s going on? Why are you doing this?” Porthos demanded as his brothers turned and began to walk away._

_“Don’t worry,” Athos called over his shoulder._

_“The slavers will be here for you soon,” d’Artagnan said._

_“Do give Belgarde my regards,” Aramis added._

With a cry, Porthos sat bolt upright in bed. Throwing back the covers, he scrambled up, checking for any sign of shackles and chains. Looking himself over, he was relieved to see there wasn’t a mark on him. More important than that, Aramis’ ring still sat safely nestled on his little finger. 

&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M

D’Artagnan lay down on the sofa and tried to get comfortable. As places to sleep went, he’d had far worse. He thought he could still hear Athos puttering around in the bedroom so tried to remain alert. It wasn’t that he thought the man might try to leave or anything but he knew how his mentor got at times and there was nothing to be found at the bottom of a wine bottle but a sore head.

Once no more sound came from the direction of the bedroom, d’Artagnan allowed himself to close his eyes. As tired as he was, it didn’t take long for sleep to pull him under. 

_d’Artagnan looked around in bewilderment at the battlefield that surrounded him. Bodies were strewn everywhere. What was this place? What had happened here? And what was he doing here? Looking about, his eyes fell on a familiar set of ornate leathers and he felt his heart try to crawl up his throat._

_“No!” he cried out as he rushed over and dropped to his knees beside the fallen man. Even before he managed to turn the body over he knew it was Porthos. He felt his gorge start to rise at the bloody wounds that rent the front of him, as if he had been ripped apart by some huge claw._

_Glancing about the field of carnage once more, he felt the blood drain from his face as a familiar hint of blue caught his eye. Placing a soft kiss to Porthos’ cold forehead, d’Artagnan raced to the other man. When he saw what had been done to him, he cried out and fell back. Aramis had been all but ripped in half, his blue sash, now stained a dark crimson, the only thing still holding him together. He looked at his eyes, those dark eyes that always seemed to be laughing and found them staring glassily ahead, unseeing in the cold embrace of death._

_Forcing himself to his feet, d’Artagnan began to frantically scan the dead for any sign of Athos. If Aramis and Porthos had been here then surely Athos had been as well. Maybe he still lived. For what felt like hours, he combed through the dead looking for any sign of the other man when at last he found him. He was sitting up against a tree, his hands cradling his stomach, his legs splayed out before him. D’Artagnan could tell that he was still breathing though it was shallowly._

_Rushing over, he fell to his knees beside him, relieved beyond measure to have found at least one of his brothers still alive. That relief soon turned to disbelief when he got a good look at the man. For Athos’ hands were not just cradling his stomach, they were holding his innards together._

_“Don’t look so sad,” Athos panted. “I’ll be with the others soon.”_

_“But I’ll be all alone,” d’Artagnan couldn’t help but reply._

_“Yes, but you were always destined for that fate. Everyone leaves you, d’Artagnan, and we are no exception.”_

_All at once the scene around him changed and d’Artagnan found himself standing in the midst of a three-way junction. His brothers were standing around him with their backs to him. For a moment, he simply reveled in the fact that they were still alive when suddenly the ground beneath his feet began to grow moist and he began to sink._

_He tried to pull his feet out but it was as if they were mired in pitch. He looked to his brothers but none of them moved, they simply stood with their backs to him as he slowly began to sink. “Help!” he called out, yet they still did not move._

_Reaching out, he grabbed Athos by the arm and jerked him. “Help me, damn it!” he demanded only for Athos to pull his arm back and begin walking down the road away from him._

_Frantically he turned toward Aramis, but he too had begun to walk away as had Porthos. “Stop!” D’Artagnan shouted. “Why are you doing this? Please!”_

_He had sank all the way to his chest, his arms becoming caught as well leaving him virtually helpless. His last sight before the pitch covered his eyes was that of Athos continuing to walk away from him._

D’Artagnan came awake in a jumble of arms and legs, fighting his way out of the blankets so fiercely that he ended up on the floor. The jarring thud was enough to fully wake him from his dream and he sat panting for long minutes as the horror slowly faded from his mind. 

&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M

Aramis knelt beside his bed, praying. He was not even sure what he was praying for other than for God’s guidance and protection. This Samael frightened him. If he was an agent of the Darkness as they suspected then just how powerful was he? For he did not seem as if he were merely someone the Darkness was influencing. No, this Samael had powers of his own. The power to cloud the mind at the very least. 

Slipping into bed, Aramis hung his rosary on the bedpost. He still felt keyed up, as if there was yet more to come, but d’Artagnan was right, they needed rest. Closing his eyes, he put his faith in God and was soon fast asleep. 

_Aramis could not believe what he was seeing. There, in the glade, were Athos and Samael. Samael had Athos spread out on his back, naked. Athos had his eyes squeezed shut as Samael pushed his legs back and pressed inside of him. Aramis felt like his heart was breaking as he watched his lover give himself to another here of all places._

_Aramis didn’t think it could get any worse as he stood transfixed watching the pair. When Athos’ eyes opened and met his own he realized how wrong he was. For there was no shame in Athos’ eyes, no guilt. He was glad that Aramis was there seeing him like this. He wanted him to know that he had given himself to Samael._

_Unable to bear any more, Aramis turned away. Tears ran freely down his face as he rushed from the glade. He headed for the house, his vision a blur, and was surprised to find himself at the center of a three-way junction. He frowned as he looked about, not recalling ever seeing anything like this near the Maison. He nearly jumped a food when his brothers seemed to appear out of nowhere, surrounding him._

_Slowly, they began to walk away from him down the roads before them, each on a different path. As Aramis watched them, he saw a great swirling blackness begin to form at the end of each road. The Darkness. The Darkness had come for his brothers. He hesitated, unsure who to try to go to first. He glanced at Athos but the memory of the glade had him shying away. He ran toward Porthos instead. Without hesitation, he ran around in front of him, intent on putting himself between his brother and whatever evil had come for him. When he looked up at Porthos’ face, however, he screamed and recoiled in horror. For what should have been the face of his brother was nothing but a grinning skull._

Everyone started at the sound of Aramis’ scream. Being right across the hall, Porthos was the first one to him, but d’Artagnan and Athos were close behind. “What is it? What’s wrong?” Porthos asked as he scrambled onto the bed beside him.

“Nothing,” Aramis said with a strangled kind of laugh. “It was just a dream.”

“You had a nightmare, too?” Porthos asked, looking back at the other two as they hurried into the room.

“Yes,” Aramis nodded then paused. “What do you mean too?”

“I had a nightmare myself,” Porthos admitted. “Just my own fears getting the better of me. Nothing to worry about.”

“I do not know about that,” d’Artagnan said as he came into the room. “I, too, had a nightmare. At the time it seemed as Porthos said, nothing more than my own fears haunting me but now...”

“What of you, Athos?” Porthos asked. “Was your sleep restless as well?”

“Yes,” Athos admitted. “But I doubt the Darkness had much to do with it. I simply dreamt you had decided to cast me out after all. Then it changed to some strange crossroad that I was in the middle of. I admit, that part made little sense. Just each of you walking away from me down a different road.”

“You dreamt of a crossroad?” Aramis asked, his face paling.

“Yes,” Athos replied.

“So did I,” Porthos said. “At the end. After the part about Aramis... At the end.”

“Was it the same? Were we all walking away from you?” Athos asked.

“Sort of. You, uh, chained me down first. Said you were leaving me for Belgarde and the slavers then you all walked away down different roads.”

“And you d’Artagnan?” Aramis asked as calmly as he could.

“At first, I dreamt of a battlefield. All of you had fallen. I was the only one left. At the crossroads, the ground before me turned to pitch. I started to sink. I called out to you for help but you ignored me and just... walked off. Eventually the ground swallowed me up and I awoke.”

“And you, Aramis?” Porthos asked.

“At the crossroads, each of you was walking toward this black, swirling mass. I tried to stop you. I ran in front of Porthos but when I looked up at him, he... he had no face. That was when I awoke.”

“What about before the crossroad?” Porthos asked.

“I’d rather not talk about that. It was only a dream after all.”

“So what does this mean?” D’Artagnan asked.

“It means that the Darkness is most definitely back and is attempting to manipulate us once again. I do not know the purpose of the dreams other than as a threat that we shall be forced to watch while we lose all that we hold dear,” Aramis said.

“That’s not going to happen,” Porthos said.

“No, it is not,” Aramis agreed. “But first things first.”

“And that would be?” Athos asked.

“Breakfast.”

The three men sat at the table and watched as Aramis busied himself making breakfast. It was still well before sunup but none of them were going back to bed. “I say after breakfast we head on in,” Porthos suggested. “Not your fault if your escort wasn’t here early enough to escort you.”

“Treville will be angry,” Aramis pointed out from the stove.

“So what,” d’Artagnan said. “He is going to be angry regardless. He is angry all the time now. Whatever this is, it has its hooks into him deeply. If I thought she would actually do it, I would tell Constance to stay at the Maison.”

“I’m not sure I would trust to do even that much,” Athos cautioned. When his brothers all looked at him, he explained. “It has its hooks in Treville. Who is to say it does not have them in Constance as well?”

“Then is there no one we can trust?” D’Artagnan asked.

“Michel,” Aramis said. “And Francois. He is not affected.”

“I’m fairly sure Claude and Sebastian are safe. I’ve seen the disapproving looks they’ve thrown Samael’s way. Serge is probably safe, too. Other than that, we have no way to know.”

“I do not think this... contamination for want of a better word, is widespread,” Aramis said. “If it were, the Darkness would have come for us already. It is still gathering its strength. But I do believe it is close to acting. It would not have made such a move with Samael if it was not.”

As they prepared to head out Porthos leant down next to Athos. “Brother, a word if you would?”

Athos froze, recalling his anger of the previous night then nodded. There was, after all, little choice to be had. If Porthos wished to berate him further for his actions, he would find a way to do so. It would be best to let him do it now in the relative privacy of their shared home. It was not as if he did not deserve it after all.

“You look a might peaked,” Porthos frowned when he joined Athos in the sitting room a few minutes later. He had asked Aramis and the Whelp to give them some privacy, saying he wanted to apologize for his behavior last night. Both men had quickly agreed and Porthos had hurried on to find Athos waiting for him looking rather ill. 

“I did not rest well. As you know,” Athos said with a tilt of his head. 

“Yeah, but you didn’t look this bad then. Not even when you were telling us about your dream. You didn’t look like this until I said I wanted to talk to you.”

“Yes well, forgive me if I am somewhat reluctant to endure another tongue lashing no matter how richly deserved it is.”

“You think...?” Porthos paused and shook his head. “Athos, I’m not here to yell at you.”

“Then why are you here? Has Aramis... has he changed his mind about me staying?”

“What? Of course not! Athos, I came here to apologize.”

“Apologize?” Athos repeated bewildered. “Apologize for what?”

Porthos sighed. This was going to be more difficult than he’d thought. “Apologize for acting the way I did. I wasn’t really mad. Not at you, at least.”

“Then what were you angry at?”

“Fate, I guess. I dunno,” Porthos shrugged. “It was just, he forgave you, just like that while I’ve had to spend months trying to earn that very thing. I... I was jealous. I was jealous and I’m sorry. You were hurting bad enough last night, you didn’t need my bullshit on top of it.”

“No,” Athos shook his head. “That was more than just your jealousy talking. You were angry with me. Angry about what I’d done to Aramis and angry about what I’d done to you and d’Artagnan as well. Your jealousy may have added fuel to the fire but your anger was you own.”

“Yeah, okay, I was mad,” Porthos said. “Out of all of us, I never expected _you_ to be the one to stray. To think so little of your family as to risk it all over a piece of tail. I’m sorry. I truly did not come here to berate you.”

“You say nothing I have already said to myself a dozen times over. I always thought my greatest shame would be what I had done to my former wife. I was wrong. And as for never expecting me to be the one to stray, you seem to be forgetting about d’Artagnan.”

“The Whelp don’t count,” Porthos said firmly. “You were half way in love with him when the three of us finally tumbled into bed. It just took you longer to figure it out is all.”

“I hate that I have done this,” Athos said softly, his pain making his otherwise smooth voice rough and gravelly. “I hate that have hurt the ones I love, the ones that have done so very much for me. Do you not know I would rather die than have betrayed you all as I have? And yet there is little I can do about it. To take my own life now would only hurt everyone more.”

“You’re damn right it would,” Porthos said gruffly. “It would kill Aramis. Hell, it would kill us all. So no more talk about that kinda stuff, you hear me. We need you. All of us. Now come on, it’s time to go.”

Just as they were preparing to leave, Aramis sidled up next to Athos. At the look of surprise on his brother’s face, he pressed his rosary into his hand, closing his fingers around it. “For protection,” he whispered then quickly moved back before Athos could somehow refuse. Whatever Samael was up to, Aramis doubted if he would give up his prize very easily. He would see his brother protected however he could.

They headed into the garrison shortly thereafter, armed and alert, traveling in their usual formation. To see them, you would think them on a patrol down by the docks or in one of the seedier sections of the city for they stayed in a tight unit, so tight their shoulders occasionally brushed as they walked resolutely toward he garrison. 

D’Artagnan took in the lot of them, noting how they walked, their sense of purpose. Athos’ eyes were sharp, focused on the road ahead. Yet even as focused as he was, there was a slight waver in him. Before, he would have leaned into his brothers to help bolster him, but Samael had managed to rob him of that, isolating Athos in a way that did not bode well for any of them.

Aramis was little better. He watched him scanning the alleyways and side streets as they passed, using his sharper senses to pick out any potential threat. But his eyes moved too quickly, never settling on anything for more than a second before flitting away to something new. The longer they walked, the more tense Aramis became as if, rather than relaxing into his place beside them, he grew more and more distressed. 

Unable to stand by and watch any longer, d’Artagnan slid closer to his brother. He pressed his hand to the back of his necked and squeezed once. It brought Aramis to a dead stop, his entire body locking up then suddenly deflating. 

“Thank you,” Aramis whispered, his eyes cutting to the side to offer his Master a brief smile.

“Tonight,” d’Artagnan said. “We can talk about it then.”

Aramis nodded and they were quickly on their way again. Glancing at Athos, d’Artagnan was relieved to see that he seemed to have calmed slightly himself. That was good. They needed to be on guard for whatever might be coming for them but they could not allow it to make them skittish.

As they continued on, he and Porthos kept a watchful eye out for Samael. Even as early as it was, he would not put it past the man to show up unexpectedly. He had a feeling that Samael had been watching them, all of them, and that their early departure would not go unnoticed. 

Much to their relief, the garrison courtyard was deserted when they arrived. They could see a light burning in the Captain’s window, thought, letting them know that he was already there. Settling around their table, they tried to decide the best way to handle things.

“I’d better go tell the Captain…” Athos began before Porthos hand on his arm stopped him.

“I think I should probably do that, brother,” Porthos said carefully.

“Ah, of course,” Athos replied, blushing at having forgotten for a moment that he was no longer the one in charge. 

“You lot wait here,” Porthos said, hoping to end the awkward moment. “I’ll go up and let him know that you came in with us since your escort wasn’t at the house yet.”

“That may have worked for now but it will not work forever,” Athos said. “And I find the thought of running from Samael distasteful.”

“Agreed,” Aramis replied.

“We know,” d’Artagnan said. “We know you don’t like it any more than we do. And we know this won’t work for long. But if it can buy us a little time to figure out what’s going on, then we need to do it.”

“You are right, of course,” Athos acquiesced. “I simply do not like it.”

“Believe me,” d’Artagnan said. “I understand.”

&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M

Porthos rapped sharply on Treville’s door then walked inside. He saw the look of annoyance flash in his eyes but he ignored it. Treville was going to be pissed anyway, he’d rather get it over with. Besides, the Whelp was right, he doubted if the man was going to listen to reason any more this time than he had the last. This was a temporary reprieve at the best.

“You’re awfully early this morning,” Treville noted.

“We were up,” Porthos shrugged. “Your boy wasn’t around so me and d’Artagnan played escort. Figured we could just do that from now on. Save everybody the trouble.”

“No,” Treville said, his mouth thinning into a grim line.

“Why not?” Porthos challenged.

“Because I said so,” Treville shot back. “Athos could stand to learn some humility...”

“He has!” Porthos insisted, his temper flaring. “This is cruelty, plain and simply.”

“Mind your place, Porthos,” Treville warned, his voice hard. “Now I believe you have a patrol to do. I suggest you take d’Artagnan and get on it.”

“Yes, Sir,” Porthos snapped. He slammed out of Treville’s office and stomped down the stairs. He saw his brothers look up at him expectantly and shook his head. 

“Don’t worry about it,” Aramis told him. “We can manage Samael now that we know the threat he poses.”

“I still don’t like leaving the two you here,” Porthos said.

“There is nothing to be done for it,” Athos sighed. “For whatever reason, Treville will not be moved.”

“No, he won’t,” Porthos agreed. “You two watch yourselves.”

“We will,” Athos replied.

“And I will do what I can to keep him away from Athos,” Aramis said. 

“Watch out for yourself, too, love,” Porthos said, pitching his voice low.

“I will,” Aramis said, smiling softly at him. Suddenly, a thought occurred to him and the smile slid from his face.

“What is it?” Porthos asked.

“Constance,” Aramis whispered urgently. “We need to make sure she is alright. With the Darkness influencing Treville she could be compromised or she could be a victim as well.”

“We’ll check on her, but Porthos, we need to go,” d’Artagnan said, his eyes cutting up to the Captain’s office.

“Alright,” Porthos said reluctantly. 

“Tonight,” Aramis told him. “We can talk more tonight. For now, concentrate on your patrol and come home safe.”

“We will,” Porthos promised.

&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M

Aramis was waiting when Francois arrived at the garrison, early as usual. He and Athos broke apart as soon as he arrived and Aramis quickly made his way to him. Pulling his apprentice aside, he slipped a small flask of Holy Water into his hand.

“For protection,” he said when Francois looked at him quizzically. 

“What is going on?” Francois asked, his eyes shifting to Athos for a moment before returning to Aramis. 

“We do not know as of yet,” Aramis said. “But we need to keep Samael away from Athos. No matter what, the two cannot be left alone together.”

“Very well,” Francois agreed at once. He didn’t know what was so important but if Aramis said to keep Samael away from Athos then that was what he would do. “I do not trust him anyway.”

“Neither do I,” Aramis said. “Something about him is not right.”

“I have been watching him...”

“Francois, no,” Aramis said, suddenly alarmed. “If he catches you...”

“I will be careful,” Francois assured him. “However you are right when you say something is amiss with him and if we do not watch him we will never discover what.”

“As you say,” Aramis relented. “But do not put yourself at risk foolishly. You are quite dear to me, my young friend. It would wound me greatly if you came to any harm.”

&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M

When Samael came storming into the garrison, he stopped short at the sight in the middle of the training yard. Athos was already there, as he had thought he would be. It was who he was with that was so surprising for he appeared to deep in the middle of training with Aramis and his apprentice, Francois. 

Seeing as no one else was paying them much attention, Samael eased over to where they were sparring. “I see you got here early this morning,” he called out.

Francois faltered slightly at the man’s mocking words but Athos and Aramis didn’t miss a beat, easily making up for his lapse and correcting it. They paused for a moment so that Aramis could show him the right way to parry Athos’ move, all three of them studiously ignoring Samael. 

Unwilling to be thwarted so easily, Samael waited until they broke again. “Could you use a fourth? Perhaps we could demonstrate for them?”

“No thank you,” Athos said formally, refusing to so much as look in his direction for fear of suddenly changing his mind. 

“If you don’t mind, we’d prefer to concentrate on training Francois today,” Aramis said putting a touch of bite into his words. 

“Surely that doesn’t require the both of you,” Samael said, smiling that same slick smile of his.

“Actually, it does,” Athos snapped. “And I do not care for being questioned by one who has barely gained his rank as a Musketeer.”

“Touchy,” Samael chuckled. “And here I thought Aramis was the only one with such a fondness for the lad.”

Athos started to turn toward him then, his sword clasped tight in his fist when Francois’ hand on his arm stopped him. “He’s goading you,” he whispered. “Do not let him. If you draw the Captain’s attention it will not bode well for you. You know this.”

“You are right,” Athos conceded. “Let’s get back to work. Perhaps he will grow bored if we ignore him long enough.”

The next few hours passed in relative peace, at least as far as Samael was concerned. Athos and Aramis focused their attention on Francois, working on his weaker areas and instructing him on how to defend against multiple opponents. It was taxing work and come noon time they were all ready for a break. 

Samael had been watching, waiting for the moment when he could get close enough to Athos to use his allure. The other two were keeping him focused on them preventing him from slipping under his guard. As soon as the three parted, Samael moved. He was almost beside the man when Francois suddenly stepped between them, cutting him off. It took everything he had not to snarl as the younger man used his body as a shield to prevent him from getting near Athos.

“You’ll pay for that,” Samael said under his breath as he turned away.

&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M

Porthos and d’Artagnan tried to make as little noise as they could when they entered Saint Severin. There were only a few parishioners present this time of day and they quickly made their way to the front where Michel stood.

“Gentlemen, it is good to see you,” Michel said, smiling brightly.

“It is good to see you as well, Father,” d’Artagnan said. 

“So what brings you two here today?” Michel asked, knowing from the look fo them that this was no mere social call. 

“We were wondering if you might come by the garrison tonight after our patrol is over,” Porthos said.

“Of course,” Michel said at once. “But... why?”

“We are afraid that the Darkness has returned,” d’Artagnan told him bluntly. 

“What?” Michel gasped, paling.

“There is something going on. Something not right. We are not sure but we fear the worst,” d’Artagnan replied.

“Tell me,” Michel demanded. “Tell me all of it. Now.”

The two men cast a glance at each other then slowly began to fill the priest in. They left nothing out, including Athos’ near betrayal knowing their brother would understand and that Michel would keep the knowledge to himself. 

“I see now why you are so worried,” Michel sighed. “Are you sure Treville is ensnared?”

“Not for certain, but his actions are not those of the man we have known,” d’Artagnan said. “If he is not being influenced then I know no other explanation for what he is doing other than a sudden penchant for sadism.”

“No,” Michel said grimly. “That is not the man I know either. Very well. Go on about your patrol. I shall meet you at the garrison tonight after evening meal.”

&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M

The sun was finally beginning to set and all three of them were tired. Athos and Aramis had worked with Francois all day, pushing the younger man harder than he had ever been before. He had not complained, though, eager for the lessons as well as to help Aramis keep Samael from Athos. The man had been quite persistent, trying again and again to insinuate himself into their circle. They had remained steadfast, though, not once allowing him to get close to Athos.

Francois did not know why it was so imperative that the two men be kept apart but he knew that Aramis would not have asked him without good reason, nor would Athos have gone along with it. Something had obviously happened the night before but he had not had a chance to speak to Aramis about it. For whatever reason, he was reluctant to speak of it in front of Athos, sensing that the subject might be a delicate one. 

Tired and sore, Francois laid his blades on the table next to Athos’ and Aramis’. Taking a moment, he looked at the two men and felt his heart ease at the sight of them. Whatever distance had been between them, though not fully healed, had been significantly lessened. Francois was glad for that. He could tell with but a glance how much Athos meant to his mentor and could only imagine how painful these last days had been for him. 

Athos carefully leaned against the post next to Aramis. He was close enough that if he leaned over just a bit they would be touching. As badly as he wanted to do so though, he hesitated. The day had been a long one for all of them after all and while shorter, the distance between him and Aramis still felt like a chasm.

“Thank you,” Athos said softly. “I know being forced to endure my presence today had to be difficult.”

“Forced to endure?” Aramis repeated aghast. “Athos, the only thing difficult about today was having to keep Samael away from you. Working with you, being near you like this, in truth I never thought to do so again.”

“Aramis...”

“I know we need to talk. Of a great many things really. But this is not the place for it.”

“Tonight then?” Athos asked hopefully. While on the one hand he was afraid, on the other he desperately wanted to set things right with Aramis. He was right, there were many things they needed to discuss from their initial spat at the Maison up to this latest fiasco. Until they did there would be no bridging this distance that had grown between them. 

“Tonight,” Aramis promised. 

“Aramis!” Treville called out from the top of the stairs startling them all. “Up here. Now.”

Aramis hesitated for a second, his eyes flitting to Francois. His young protege only nodded and began moving toward Athos as Aramis headed up the stairs at a trot. Aramis was half way to the top when Samael made his move. He was within a mere foot of Athos when Francois brushed past him, shouldering him out of the way to stand between the two men. He knew he was being overly blatant about it but he also knew that Aramis was counting on him. 

“I will peel the flesh from your bones, you fucking little ingrate,” Samael snarled menacingly.

Surprised, Francois whirled around, his hand going to the vial in his pocket without thought. The look of unabashed fury on the man’s face was enough to have him stepping back toward Athos out of reflex. Before he could take more than a step however, Samael’s hand clamped down on his arm with a crushing strength. Crying out, Francois jerked the vial from his pocket and splashed it across his face causing him to stagger backward and roar in pain.

“You’re dead!” Samael cried out, smoke rising from where the Holy Water had touched him, as he headed straight for Francois. 

Aramis had started back down the stairs at the commotion when he suddenly heard Treville cry out in pain. Hesitating only a moment, he turned and hurried up to the Captain. The man was on his knees, his arms wrapping around his stomach, moaning in pain. 

“Captain, what is it? What’s wrong?” Aramis asked, looking him over for any sign of injury. His only reply was another pitiable moan as the man rocked back and forth on his knees.

In the courtyard below everything seemed to stop. All of the men were looking at three of them, Athos, Francois and Samael, many of them staring at the smoke that still rose from Samael’s body. Athos and Francois were frozen in place as well as they took in the fact that Samael was most definitely not what he appeared to be. 

Suddenly, Samael drew a dagger from his belt and lunged toward Francois. Athos’ moved at once. He shoved Francois to the side and grabbed Samael’s forearm, blocking the blow. Athos reached behind his back for his own dagger then cursed when he saw it lying on the table along with his sword. That was alright, he would not be bested by a wet-behind-the-ears recruit even if he had spent the last week training the man himself.

Samael came at him again and Athos quickly dodged to the side. He was careful to keep himself between Samael and Francois, not trusting the man not to go after the lad again if given the chance. As he watched him, Athos took note of the unholy gleam in his eyes and a thought came to him. Reaching into his pocket, he grasped the rosary Aramis had given him that morning. He quickly wrapped it around his hand and waited for an opening.

When Samael lunged for him again, he got his chance. Moving in close, Athos grabbed him by the back of the head with one hand and pressed the rosary to his face with the other. The shriek that Samael let out was unearthly as he writhed and jerked, flinging himself away from Athos. As he stood chest heaving in the middle of the practice yard, everyone could see the charred flesh on his face where Athos had pressed the rosary. Slowly, Musketeers began to encircle the pair, their swords drawn. 

“Stand down, Samael,” Claude ordered from off to his right.

Samael ignored him. His eyes were locked on Athos. How dare he? How dare this puny human think to wound him? Oh he was going to make him pay for that. He was going to make him pay for days.

“Stand down, he said,” Sebastian said from his left.

“Make me,” Samael challenged, unafraid. 

He paused for a moment longer then lunged toward Athos again, his dagger aimed straight for his throat. He was no more than half way to him before a shot rang out, the ball hitting him squarely between the eyes and knocked him back. When his body hit the ground, it exploded into a hoard of screeching black ravens that flew off in all directions. 

All at once the courtyard erupted into chaos. Men cried out and ran over, some to him, many more to Samael. Or at least where Samael should have been. All that remained of him were his clothes and weapons, no trace of his body could be found. 

It was to this pandemonium that Porthos and d’Artagnan returned. They quickly scanned the men running about looking for their brothers. They found Athos easily enough but there was no sign of Aramis. Even more worrying, there was no sign of Samael either. 

“What the hell is going on?” Porthos asked once he’d made his way to Athos.

“Samael attacked Francois,” Athos said succinctly. “I interceded. Somebody shot him.”

“Who shot him?” Porthos asked.

“Where’s Aramis?” D’Artagnan asked, much more concerned with his brother than Samael’s demise at the moment.

“I don’t know,” Athos said. “Aramis was up on the landing with Treville earlier.”

D’Artagnan hurried up the stairs, looking for any sign of their brother. When he got to the top he found Treville on his knees, nearly unconscious. Next to him was one of Aramis’ pistols. It had been fired just recently from the smell of it. Carefully, he helped the Captain down the stairs then turned him over to Francois to tend to. 

“This was next to Treville,” he said as he handed Athos Aramis’ pistol.

“Well that answers the question of who killed Samael,” Porthos said. “But where the hell did he go?”

“And where the hell is Aramis?”


	31. Chapter 31

Athos saw Sebastian headed toward them and gave a quick jerk of his head. His brothers fell silent as the man approached, not wanting to start a panic with talk of dark forces and the like. Reminding himself that he was no longer the second in command, Athos held himself back, letting the man come to them, or more specifically, to Porthos.

“Athos,” Sebastian said surprising them all, “what would you have us do?”

Athos quirked an eyebrow, his eyes shifting to Porthos and back again. “I am not the one in charge,” he said after a moment, unsure why Sebastian was blatantly ignoring the chain of command.

“No offense, but we have all seen how erratic the Captain has been. Now he falls ill just as this... this fiend is destroyed. Forgive us if we do not trust Treville’s decisions of late. We do however trust you.”

“You can trust Portos, Sebastian,” Athos said softly. “I give you my word.”

“I know that. I do. But the men are jumpy enough as it is. They need something they know they can trust. They need you, Lieutenant.” 

“I am no longer a Lieutenant either,” Athos pointed out.

“You will always be the Lieutenant of this garrison,” Sebastian said. “It doesn’t matter if you are acting as Treville’s second or not. Look, we don’t know what happened to make him turn on you but we need you right now.”

Athos started to argue but Porthos put his hand on his shoulder stopping him. “Athos, he’s right. The men trust you. They follow you instinctively. They need you to lead them.”

Athos looked at his brother and nodded. He was right. It wasn’t so much that the men didn’t trust Porthos as it was they didn’t trust Treville’s judgment in naming him as second. And though the realization might sting Porthos’ pride, they had more important things to worry about at the moment.

“Alright,” Athos said. “D’Artagnan, go and fetch Michel. We are in sore need of his input in this.”

“He’s already on his way,” d’Artagnan said. “He’s supposed to meet us here after evening meal.”

“Then for now let’s concentrate on getting everyone settled down. Sebastian, Francois took Treville to the infirmary. Post two of the most senior men outside of it. From the look of him, I doubt if he’ll give the lad any trouble but let’s make sure of it.”

“Yes, Sir,” Sebastian said.

“After that, I want this garrison turned upside down. Aramis is missing and I want him found,” Athos said.

“When did he go missing?” Sebastian asked.

“During the commotion with Samael,” Athos replied. “Aramis fired the killing shot but disappeared from the landing sometime afterwards. I’m worried he might have been taken from here by force while we were all distracted.”

“Why do you think that?”

“Because he left both his pistol and an injured Treville behind. Aramis would not have done either of those things willingly. If he’s still in this garrison, I want him found. If not, I want to know where to start looking.”

His orders received Sebastian hurried off leaving the three men alone once more. Athos let the onus of command push aside his worry for Aramis, quelling the rising panic within him. He could see that same panic on the faces of his brothers and knew he needed to do something. 

“Can you two try to keep everyone away from Samael’s remains until Michel gets here?” Athos asked. “I want to check on Treville.”

“Yeah,” Porthos agreed reluctantly. He wanted to look for Aramis, both of them did, but he also knew that it was important to keep the rest of the garrison as ignorant to what was really going on as possible.

Walking into the infirmary, Athos nodded to the two sentries already in place. Both were well-trained, trusted me. If Francois had any problem, they would be able to protect him. Approaching the bed where Treville lay, Athos stared down at his Captain.

“How is he?”

“In and out of it,” Francois said. “He wakes for short times but he doesn’t say anything. I’m not sure if he even realizes where he is.”

“What is wrong with him?”

“I don’t know. Nothing from what I can tell. He has no wound, no fever. He has sustained no blow to his person that I know if.”

“Can you rouse him?” Athos asked. He needed answers and he didn’t have time to wait around for Treville to come to his senses.

“I can try though I do not know how dangerous it might be. Without knowing what is wrong with him trying to rouse him may only make things worse.”

“Do it anyway,” Athos said. 

“Yes, Sir,” Francois replied and went to retrieve the necessary herbs to try to bring the Captain around. 

Glancing one last time at Athos to be sure, Francois held the herbal mixture he had concocted under the Captain’s nose. Slowly, it began to rouse him making Francois frown. These herbs should have brought the Captain awake in an instant yet he was barely conscious.

“Treville,” Athos said as he leaned over the man. “Treville, are you with me?”

“What? A-Athos? What?”

“Where is Aramis?” Athos demanded knowing he had little time before Treville once more lost himself to whatever malady had him in its grip. 

“Aramis?” Treville frowned, trying to think. Everything in his mind was a jumble. A hazy mismatch of memories that made no sense. 

“Where is Aramis?” Athos demanded again.

“I don’t... Gone... I don’t...” Treville’s head began to loll back and forth, his words slurring once more. 

“That’s it. I’m sorry,” Francois said. 

“Is there anything else you can use?” Athos asked.

“This was the strongest thing Aramis had. If this cannot rouse him then nothing can.”

“Alright. Thank you for trying. Until I relieve you, Treville is your responsibility,” Athos said after thinking a moment. “He is to remain here, under guard. He is, under no circumstances, to leave the infirmary.”

“What about when he finally comes around?” Francois asked.

“He doesn’t leave,” Athos said. “I’ll make sure the other men know. They will stand behind you.”

Just as Athos was preparing to leave he heard another commotion in the courtyard. “Oh what now,” he said under his breath as he hurried outside to find Constance, her hands on her hips, demanding to see her husband. 

“Athos!” she cried as soon as she spied him. “Tell these men to let me pass.”

“Constance,” Athos said wearily. “We need to talk.” Taking her aside, he explained as best he could what had happened, including the Captain’s part in it. Once he was finished, he led her into the infirmary where Francois was tending him.

“Oh no,” she said as she fell down beside his bed. “It will be alright, my love. You’ll see. We’ll get you home and you’ll be just fine.”

Francois glanced at Athos at her words and Athos shook his head. “Constance,” he began slowly. “Treville is to remain confined to the infirmary. You may come and go as you wish, but he stays here.”

“For how long?” she demanded.

“Until I am satisfied that he is free of whatever has had him in its grip,” Athos said.

“Are you telling me my husband is under arrest?”

“Of a sort, yes,” Athos replied, squaring his shoulders and looking her in the eyes. “He was being influenced, of that much we are certain. Whether or not he still is remains to be seen. Would you truly have us allow him to walk free without knowing?”

“But I could look after him at home,” she offered.

“And when he overpowered you?” Athos asked. “Are you prepared to shoot him to keep him from leaving? As I said, you may come and go as you please. A cot can be set up in here if you wish to stay by his side, but he does not leave. I’m sorry, Constance. I truly am, but I cannot put the welfare of one man before that of this garrison.”

Constance turned away from him then, unwilling to allow him to see her cry. Instead she returned to her husband’s side and began talking softly to him hoping to draw him back to her. The sooner he returned to himself the sooner he could prove he was no longer being manipulated. Then he would be free to come home again. In the meantime, she would stay by his side where she belonged.

Leaving the infirmary, Athos sought out Claude and Sebastian. He found them coordinating the search of the garrison. “Gentlemen, a word,” Athos said. 

“Sir?” Claude said as they turned their attention to him.

Athos took a deep breath and let it out before speaking. “I have confined the Captain to the infirmary. He is not to leave until I return and determine if it is safe for him to do so. Am I clear?”

“So you’re relieving him of command,” Sebastian said.

“Temporarily,” Athos assured them. “I do not believe this affliction is permanent. But he cannot be trusted until we are certain it has passed.”

“And if he wakes and demands to know on whose authority he is being held?” Claude asked.

“Tell him mine and if he gives you any more trouble after that tell him he can remain there, with his wife, or he can be taken to a cell, the choice is his.”

“Are you certain you want to do that, my friend?” Sebastian asked. “If he takes great enough offense once this mess is cleared up you could find yourself in irons.”

“With command comes responsibility,” Athos said. 

“Porthos is his named second...”

“No,” Athos said. “You wanted me to lead you and I am. Porthos will bear no blame in this should things not go the way we hope.”

“As you say,” Sebastian conceded. He could understand Athos’ point. While Porthos had the actual authority to relieve Treville of command, the man could make his life equally unpleasant if he chose to. Athos would rather take the chance himself than put one of his brothers at risk.

They were interrupted a moment later by d’Artagnan. “Father Michel is here,” he said. He paused, eyeing the two men then forced himself to ask. “Any sign of Aramis?”

“Not yet,” Claude said. “But we’re not done looking yet. We’ll find him.”

D’Artagnan nodded his thanks and he and Athos hurried over to where Michel stood with Porthos. Michel was knelt down next to Samael’s remains which consisted of little more than his soot-tinged clothes. Michel was lifting them gingerly as if not wanting to disturb them too much when he suddenly flung Samael’s doublet aside to reveal the ground beneath.

“What’s that?” Porthos asked as he stared at the mark that had been charred into the ground beneath Samael’s clothes. 

“It’s a rune,” Michel said as he stood. 

“What kind of rune?” Athos asked.

“A binding rune,” Michel replied. “The Darkness is somehow binding itself to something. We must find this thing and destroy it. Only then will you finally be free. But Athos, you must hurry. If the Darkness finds a willing host before you banish it, there will be no stopping it.”

“Athos, a word,” Claude called anxiously from a few feet away. 

“Wait here,” Athos said before moving to Claude. “What is it?”

“The men have gone through every inch of the garrison, including Treville’s office. There’s no sign of Aramis anywhere. No sign of a struggle. Nothing. It’s like he just disappeared.”

“Alright,” Athos said, closing his eyes briefly against the reality of what Claude was telling him. “For now, set a guard. This garrison is on high alert.”

With a heavy heart Athos returned to the others and told them the news. Porthos and d’Artagnan looked stricken. Even Michel looked decidedly ill at the news. “It has taken him,” Michel said. “You must find him.”

“Where do we even start looking?” Porthos asked, his heart gripped with an icy fear that threatened to bring him to his knees.

“I’ve seen this rune before,” d’Artagnan said suddenly.

“Where?” Athos asked.

“Flamare,” d’Artagnan replied. “It was one of the runes painted on the walls. The ones that made that screeching noise when Aramis touched them.”

“Why would it take him to Flamare?” Porthos asked. “That place has nothing to do with this.”

“No, but it has a great deal to do with Aramis,” Athos said. “And who are we to say it has nothing to do with this? Perhaps it does and we simply do not know how. Either way it is the only lead we have. Give me a moment to see to the men and we shall head out at once.”

“You men are exhausted,” Michel pointed out. “Would it not be better to wait until first light?”

“Aramis needs us. It’ is a day and a half ride as it is. We can at least get under way tonight,” Athos said. With that he headed toward Claude, signaling Sebastian to join them. 

“Do you really think he’s at Flamare?” Porthos asked once they were alone.

“I don’t know,” d’Artagnan said. “But it feels right. I don’t know how but it does.”

“That’s good enough for me, Whelp.”

A few feet away, Athos took Claude and Sebastian aside. “We think we know where Aramis has been taken,” he began. “We are riding out shortly. I am leaving you two in charge of the garrison. Keep the men on alert. Keep Treville confined. And do whatever Father Michel says to get rid of Samael’s remains.”

“Yes, Sir,” Claude said.

“Do you want anyone to go with you?” Sebastian asked. “Any number of men would go and would not ask any questions.”

“I thank you for that, my friend, but no. If we are wrong, we may very well need every man we have right here.”

&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M

Aramis hung, limp and panting, between the same pillars that Athos had been strung up between. He had been stripped to his smalls, leaving his back bare and vulnerable. The ropes around his wrists stretched his arms tight and lifting him so that his toes barely brushed the floor. It put all of his weight on his overtaxed shoulders making it feel as though they were being slowly pulled from their sockets. 

When the phantom whip slammed into his back yet again, Aramis could not help but cry out. He had long since stopped caring about that. There was no one here to hear him scream save the demon that had brought him there in the first place. 

As if on cue, Samael stepped into his line of sight once more. Just as Aramis met his eyes the whip fell again, making him cry out and jerk. He did not know what he was being beaten with or if it even existed in this world. All he knew was the white-hot agony that it brought every time the barbs and leather bit into his unprotected flesh. 

“You are quite stubborn,” Samael said as he walked back and forth in front of his captive. “If the Darkness did not want you so badly I would have already dispatched you by now.”

“G-go... ahead...” Aramis rasped.

“Oh no. The Darkness has plans for you,” Samael chuckled. “It’s not done punishing you. Not by a long shot. But, and you may want to pay attention here, it’s willing to make a deal.”

“What kind of... of deal?”

“It wants to destroy you but it wants a vessel, too. Agree to be its vessel and it will let you live,” Samael explained. “It will even allow you to return to your precious brothers.”

“No,” Aramis gasped, shaking his head as vehemently as he could.

“As you wish then,” Samael said. 

All at once the whip crashed into his back three times in quick succession making Aramis scream in agony. He could feel the blood running down his back to be soaked up by his smalls. It felt like he was being flayed alive, his back laid open, as he feebly twisted in his bonds. 

When the whip finally stopped again, Aramis hung his head sobbing in relief. He knew it would be short-lived but he would take any break from the unrelenting torment. He wondered at the fact that he had not already succumbed and understood then that the entity was keeping him alive. It would not allow him to perish no matter how much abuse it heaped upon him. He was completely at the mercy of the Darkness and Samael until his brothers found him. Considering they had somehow spirited him away to Flamare of all places, Aramis thought they might be a long time in coming. 

“So strong,” Samael said as he ran his hand across Aramis’ blood covered back earning a pitiful moan from his captive. “I can understand why it wants you for its vessel. And it would be such a sublime punishment for you as well, to be forever locked away, forced to watch the atrocities committed in your name. Your brothers would be safe, though. It promises. All you have to do is say yes and it will ensure that no harm ever comes to them. Isn’t that what you want? To protect them? To keep them safe? You can do that. Just say yes, Aramis. You know you want to.”

“No,” Aramis spat weakly. “I will never give myself to it or you or anything else. My brothers will come for me.”

“Will they?” Samael asked, amusement coloring his voice. “They don’t even know where you are. And really, what makes you so sure they would even bother? I mean you’re the one that brought the Darkness into the garrison in the first place. You’re the one it wants. If it gets you then this whole nightmare ends. What makes you think they aren’t just going to sit back and let us have you?”

“My brothers will come for me,” Aramis said again, refusing to listen to Samael’s words. “They will come for me and they will destroy you, demon.”

“They can try.”

&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M

“Athos, are you sure about this?” Porthos asked as they rode through the gate toward Flamare.

“No,” Athos said, “but it is the only lead we have.”

“It could mean nothing,” Porthos pointed out.

“I am aware,” Athos replied. “But I do not believe in coincidence. There are any number of runes that could have indicated the same thing. For it to be one that d’Artagnan recognized from Flamare…”

“And if it is a trick?” Porthos asked. “If it is meant to lead us in the wrong direction?”

“Then we are very likely sentencing Aramis to his death,” Athos said, trying hard not to flinch at the words. He knew they were taking a chance, that it was a long shot at best. But they had no other lead. It was either this or stand around and wait hoping Treville came to his senses and could tell them something. 

“If you wish to go back,” Athos offered.

“No,” d’Artagnan said, speaking up for the first time. “We ride together. I know you do not believe in God’s guiding hand but I do, as does Aramis. And He is leading us to Flamare.”

“Flamare it is then,” Porthos said. He only hoped his brothers were right.

&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M

“I must say,” Samael said trying another tactic as he walked in front of Aramis just as another searing lash striped his back. “I can see why you were so possessive of Athos. He is quite the catch. Very… enthusiastic.”

“You lie,” Aramis panted. “Athos… Athos told us. He never…”

“And you believed him?” Samael laughed. “How naïve of you. Shall I tell you what really happened in that alley? Shall I tell you of how he dropped to his knees for me? Of how he begged to pleasure me? Of how I spent myself down his throat?”

“Shut up,” Aramis gasped, shaking his head weakly. “That did not happen. Athos… Athos would have told us. You are… are nothing but… but lies.”

“Am I now? Perhaps I am,” Samael said. “But I don’t have to be. All that I said I can make come true. He broke free from my thrall once. He will not manage to do so again. Tell me, Aramis, do you know what it means to be the whore of a demon?”

“No,” Aramis sobbed, his head hanging. He could not bear the thought of such a fate befalling Athos yet he was powerless to stop it. 

“But you can stop it,” Samael said as it reading his mind. “All you have to do is say yes.”

Clamping his mouth shut, Aramis shook his head as violently as he could. He would not give in. His brothers were coming for him. He would not give in to this demon. He would not sell his own soul. He had more faith than that. God would protect him. Him and his brothers. He just had to have faith.

“One of the benefits of being a minion of Hell is that you never die,” Samael said conversationally. “I’ll see that the same applies to Athos. He’ll whore himself to every evil thing that I can find. I’ll have him throwing himself at their feet, begging to be used by them. Then, when it’s over, I’ll pull back. Not all the way, mind you, just enough for him to realize what it is he’s done. Just enough for the shame to set in. Only to do it all over again the next day. How long do you think it would take before his mind simply broke?”

“No,” Aramis moaned shaking his head in weak defiance. He tensed, knowing the lash would come next and was not disappointed when it slammed into his lacerated back. His shrill scream rent the air and he thought he heard Samael laugh when suddenly the lashing stopped.

&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M

None of them were happy when they had to stop in the wee hours of the morning. D’Artagnan has argued to push on but they were done in. “What good will we do him if we break our necks trying to find him?” Athos had finally asked, his temper getting the best of him. 

“And if he is dead by the time we do find him?” D’Artagnan challenged.

“Then he died knowing we were coming for him,” Athos told him gently as he grabbed the younger man by the back of the neck and pulled him to him. “He knows we’re coming. He will hold on for us with everything he has. In turn, we must be ready when we reach him or we will fail.”

“Come on, you two, let’s eat a bite and try to get a few hours of rest,” Porthos said. 

With a nod the pair parted and began helping Porthos get a fire going. It didn’t take long before they were sitting around it watching their dinner cook. “I was supposed to talk to him tonight,” d’Artagnan said out of nowhere. “I could see he needed his Master when we were on our way in. I told him tonight but I never got the chance.”

“I was supposed to talk to him tonight, too,” Porthos said. “It wasn’t anything really. Just letting him know that I was there for him if he needed me I suppose.”

“I was as well,” Athos put in. “I told him I knew how onerous the day had to have been for him working so closely with me. He... he assured me it wasn’t and promised we would discuss it more tonight. For a few moments there, I was actually hopeful that we might find our way back to each other. I should have known better.”

“Athos, you will get through this,” d’Artagnan said. “We’re going to find Aramis and then you two are going to have a long overdue talk.”

“You’ll find your way back to each other if we have to drag you there with a bloody rope,” Porthos added making the other two chuckle.

“And you?” Athos asked carefully. “Will you drag me back to you the same way?”

“What do you mean?” Porthos frowned.

“I know how badly I hurt you. Both of you. Don’t you know that I would get down on my knees and beg for your forgiveness if I thought it might make a difference,” Athos said.

“Athos...” Porthos trailed off, unsure how to respond.

“Brother, we know you are sorry. You wear your contrition like a cloak. But you need beg of nothing from us,” d’Artagnan said.

“Do you need to hear the words, Athos? Is that is?” Porthos asked when he saw the desperate hope in his brother’s eyes. “Then we forgive you. You hear me? We forgive you. We know you never set out to do this, to betray us. And even if you had, we’d forgive that, too.”

Athos had to swallow twice to get past the lump in his throat that his brother’s words caused. “I have no words... That you would forgive such a thing of me...”

“We love you,” d’Artagnan shrugged.

They fell silent then as they ate and watched the fire. Finally, Porthos cleared his throat and spoke up. “Athos, when we get back, if Treville wants you as his second...”

“Treville already has a second,” Athos said.

“He had a better one in you,” Porthos countered.

“No, he did not,” Athos shook his head. “The men were discomfited. They followed me because they mistrusted every decision Treville had made. Regretfully that included naming you as second. Once things are set to right, that will change.”

“You deserve to have your rank back,” Porthos insisted.

“Do I?” Athos asked. “I am guilty of what I was accused of. I acted in a manner unfit for command. Even if I do deserve my rank back, my position as second is well and truly forfeit. As it should be.”

“There is no moving you on this, is there?”

“No,” Athos said succinctly.

&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M

Aramis hung in his bonds trying to breathe through the pain. Even with the lash no longer assailing him the pain still came in waves. It was like an unrelenting tide, each wave of pain cresting over him only to slowly recede so it could come crashing back again.

As he hung their helplessly, he could not help but wonder if everyone would not have been better off if he’d simply let Bathory take him. If she had, they would be far from here. His family and friends would be safe. Oh who was he kidding? Bathory had set up shop here. She had no intention of ceasing her activities and with him by here side she would likely redouble her efforts. She would have continued to lead young virgins to their deaths as her evil menace grew. Joining her would have spelled doom for everyone. 

At first Aramis was so disoriented he didn’t realize what was happening, then he felt it, an oily blackness that was slowly coiling itself around his body. As it inched its way higher, the pain began to recede, as if its touch was somehow dampening it. Aramis had to bite his lip to keep from moaning in relief. For as good as it felt, he knew better than to give this monster a way in. Any opening, no matter how small, would be exploited to the extreme and he didn’t know if he had the strength left to fend it off yet again.

_Aramis,_ the Darkness whispered in his mind as it wrapped itself around him like a blanket, cocooning him in its presence. _Why do you fight me so? Let me in. Let me in and this will all be over. No more pain. No more fear. And your brothers... I can see to it that they live long, plentiful lives by your side. You need never fear for their safety again. Isn’t that what you want? To see them safe? To be with them without fear? I can make that happen. All you have to do is say yes._

As it spoke, it caressed him, its dark, oily presence touching every part of him. Aramis could smell it in his nose, taste it in his mouth, and it made him want to be sick even as his heart cried out to him to just say yes, to give in and end this pain. What the Darkness was offering was so tempting. To see his brothers safe. To know they would be protected... 

But he could not. He would not. His brothers would never forgive him. He was stronger than this demon. He would endure until his brothers came for him. God would see him through this trial if only he held fast to his faith.

“No,” Aramis said. “No, I will not be your vessel. You will not have me, demon. You will never have me.”

_Then know the agony you will suffer!_ the Darkness snarled. _You are mine and your punishment will be legendary. I will make you watch while Samael takes your precious Athos as his consort. Together they will visit every torture imaginable on your brothers before crucifying them while you watch. Just like that puny God you believe in so much. From there they will turn their sights on everyone you have ever loved, every innocent you have ever helped. They will become a pestilence on Earth and you will watch as your lover revels in it._

“No!” Aramis spat. “Athos is stronger that that. His brothers will protect him. He will not fall to you. Do what you will to me, demon, but my brothers will not fall.”

With a roar, the Darkness dug its claws into Aramis’ shoulders and raked down, rending his back to the bone. Aramis’ scream echoed off the walls of the church as he felt his flesh parted and entire gouts of blood flow down his back. He head lolled as the world began to darken and he wondered if he might finally be dying. He hoped so for something told him that without him there the Darkness would no longer be a threat to any of them. 

&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M

“We do not know what we may find here,” Athos cautioned as they slowly advanced on the ruin. All of his senses were telling him that this was it. This was where Aramis was. Whether he still lived or not was yet to be seen. “I will take the front. “You two slip around and make your way inside from the back.”

They had just started to split up when Aramis’ scream rent the air freezing them in place. Without another thought the three men rushed forward as one, intent on getting to their brother. Porthos kicked in the door with one heavy, booted foot and Athos charged inside, sword in one hand, pistol in the other, his brothers right behind him. What they saw stopped them dead in their tracks.

It was like something from a nightmare. It was Flamare all over again only so much worse. So very much worse. For Aramis hung suspended from the very same pillars that Athos had been strung up between. His back was torn open, as if some wild animal had gotten to it, the flesh hanging in long, bloody strips. Some of the wounds were deep enough that they could see clear through to the bone and his smalls were so saturated with blood that they dripped with it.

“Get him down,” Athos snapped, his eyes suddenly alighting on Samael. He was the one who had done this. He was the one who had brought their brother here. It was time to deal with this thing once and for all.

“Athos!” Samael called out jovially as the man stalked toward him “You look upset, my friend. What troubles you?”

“You’re going to die and I’m going to be the one who kills you,” Athos told him, his sword held high.

“Oh, I doubt that,” Samael smirked. “But you’re welcome to try. I always like a good fight. Gets me in the mood. Just ask your little whore hanging over there.”

Athos knew the words were meant to wound him and make him hesitate but he refused to let them. They were nothing more than a mind game and he was done being played by this thing. “Draw your sword,” Athos demanded as he holstered his pistol and drew his main gauche.

“No,” Samael said and shook his head. “You can’t kill me, Athos. Didn’t that ball through my head show you that much? I’m a demon. We don’t die.”

Athos paused taking in his words. Samael was right about that much. If Aramis’ shot had not stopped him then there was little chance his sword would. “Why are you doing this?” Athos snarled as he carefully circled his opponent. Even if he could not kill this fiend he would fight him, especially if it gave his brothers time to get to Aramis and free him.

“The Darkness wants Aramis,” Samael shrugged. “I’m here to help.”

With that, Athos looked toward his brothers. Porthos and d’Artagnan had just reached Aramis when they were suddenly lifted off the ground and flung against the far side of the church to land with a sickening thud. 

“No!” Athos cried out. He turned back toward a chuckling Samael and acted on instinct burying his sword deep in the man’s side before yanking it free and rushing toward Aramis. 

As Porthos and d’Artagnan began to pick themselves back up, they were suddenly assaulted by a barrage of images. Suddenly, it was no longer Aramis’ abused and beaten body hanging limply between the pillars, but Athos’. Porthos recoiled in horror as Athos slowly lifted his head and pain-filled green eyes met his own. It left him frozen, unable to move for precious seconds as the Darkness used his greatest nightmare against him. D’Artagnan, too, stood stunned as he was forced to bear witness to his lover’s pain once more. Even before they were lovers seeing Athos brought so low had nearly done him in and this time was no exception. 

“Fight it, damn you!” Athos cried out when he saw his brothers simply staring at Aramis aghast. He knew it was the Darkness trying to manipulate them once more but he did not have time to help them. Not if he wanted to save Aramis. 

Athos managed to reach Aramis’ side as Porthos and d’Artagnan managed to shake themselves out of their stupor. They pair had made it only a few steps before the scattered pews were lifted and hurled toward them burying them in a twisted heap of splintered wood and debris. Athos stared at them in horror then forced his attention back to Aramis. At most, his brothers had a few broken bones. Besides, the Darkness did not want them. It wanted Aramis. 

Athos had sheathed his weapons and wrapped his arms around his brother to keep from being ripped from his side. As he held on, his eyes caught sight of the brand on Aramis’ shoulder. Staring at it, he noticed that the Bathory mark beneath it appeared to be glowing blue. The same unearthly blue as Samael’s eyes. Taking a chance and praying he was right, Athos grabbed the dagger from the small of his back and plunged it to the hilt into the center of the brand on Aramis’ shoulder.

For a heartbeat, everything went still. Then the Darkness let out a shriek of pure pain. Samael began to scream as well as his body began to burn itself up from the inside out. At the same time, Aramis threw back his head and screamed until his voice gave out before his head dropped back down as his consciousness finally fled. Dirt and debris began to fly around the church as if in a violent storm and the very walls began to shake as the Darkness continued to howl. 

Athos quickly cut Aramis down then hurried to where Porthos and d’Artagnan were buried. He began pulling the pews off of them then the three made their way back to Aramis. It was slow going with one of Porthos limping badly hurt and d’Artagnan’s wrist clearly broken once more. “We have to get him out of here. This whole place is going to come down,” Athos yelled, trying to be heard over the cacophony going on around them.

Lifting him as best they could, they carried him from the ruined church. They had barely made it clear of the place when the entire structure gave a shudder and collapsed in on itself burying the ruins of Flamare in a pile of stone and rubble forever.

“Get some water, quickly,” Athos said as they laid Aramis down on the ground as gently as they could. It was hard to tell how bad the wounds were through all the blood. It was a miracle that he was even still alive. Now it was up to them to keep him that way. 

Sitting back, Athos held his breath, glancing over and away, while Porthos began to carefully wash away the blood while he set d’Artagnan’s wrist. It was not the expert job Aramis would have done but it would do for the time being. All three men began to frown as the blood sluiced away to reveal Aramis’ back. 

Aramis’ untouched back. 

The bloody wounds that had rent it, that they had seen with their own eyes even, were gone. In their place were a spiderweb of faint silvery scars. Tentatively, Athos reached out and touched one. His touch was feather light as if unsure if his tough might bring pain to one or the other of them. When nothing happened, he ran his fingers over them more fully, and found them barely discernible to the touch. 

“But we saw them,” Porthos said, shaking his head as he stretched out his injured leg with a wince. “We got his blood all over our hands. His smalls are still soaked with it.”

“I...” Athos trailed off, unsure what to say.

“Well, there’s one wound that isn’t gone,” d’Artagnan said, nodding toward the dagger wound on Aramis’ shoulder. Athos had plunged his blade all the way through until it came out the back, leaving a ghastly wound behind that needed to be dealt with.

“I’ll get his kit,” Athos said, swallowing thickly at the sight of the damage he himself had inflicted.

They made quick work of cleaning him up and seeing to his injury. Athos ended up sewing him up with shaking hands as d’Artagnan was too injured and Porthos simply lacked the skill. As he sewed the front, fighting the urge to vomit with every pass of the needle, he noticed that he could see no trace of the Bathory mark beneath their brand any longer. Whatever had happened had burned it from Aramis’ body for good. 

&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M

It took them two days to reach the Maison. Two pain and sweat-filled days on the part of d’Artagnan and Porthos yet there was little to be done for it. They headed straight there rather than the garrison, not wanting to risk people asking more questions they could not answer. Too many things had gone on already. The last thing they needed to do was incite a witch-hunt.

The entire time, Aramis remained unconscious. He gave no indication he was in pain or distress. He simply would not wake up. And the longer Aramis remained asleep the quieter Athos grew. By the time they reached the Maison, they all breathed a sigh of relief. They quickly got Aramis inside and into bed then settled around him.

“He will come around soon enough,” d’Artagnan said, the pain in his arm finally starting to quiet some now that he was no longer being forced to use it.

“You do not know this,” Athos replied softly.

“Yes, I do,” d’Artagnan countered. “We did not get him back only for him to succumb now. God is not so cruel as that.”

“If God were not cruel He would not keep doing this to him,” Athos said though there was no fire to his words. “He would not have made me...”

“You did what you had to, brother,” Porthos said, realizing where a great deal of Athos’ pain was coming from. “You freed him and you destroyed the Darkness. Those are the things that matter.”

“Aramis is what matters,” Athos said. 

“Aramis would disagree with you,” d’Artagnan said.

“Then he should wake up to do so,” Athos replied. “Until he does, I will believe what I choose to.”

“This isn’t your fault, brother,” Porthos told him. 

They slept in chairs around Aramis’ bed, none of them willing to leave his side. Athos had insisted that Porthos at least prop is leg up on the bed to ease some of the strain on it. Reluctantly he had agreed and the pinched lines around his eyes had lessened almost immediately. By daybreak Aramis still had not stirred and Athos knew he could put his errand off no longer no matter how much it pained him to do it.

“I have to return to the garrison,” Athos said as they ate a quick breakfast. 

“What? Why?” Porthos asked.

“Because I am still in charge of it,” Athos replied. “I need to determine if Treville has been freed of the Darkness’ influence and turn the garrison back over to him if he has.”

“You left Claude and Sebastian in charge,” d’Artagnan said.

“With express orders not to release Treville without my say so,” Athos said. “I have to go back. I am sorry. I shouldn’t be gone more than a day unless something is still amiss there. With the Darkness destroyed however, I doubt that will be the case.”

“And if Treville decides to arrest you for locking him up and assuming command?” Porthos asked.

“Then better he do that there then send men here for me,” Athos said. “I’ll be fine. You two just look after each other and Aramis. I’ll be back by tomorrow at the latest.”

In the end, they had no choice but to let him go. They knew he was right. He needed to set the garrison to rights so he could get back here and concentrate on what really mattered. They could handle things without him for a day. The thing that truly worried them was just how much offense Treville will have taken to what they did. 

As Athos readied his horse, d’Artagnan slipped into the barn. He stood there, watching him, torn between his desire to be with him and his need to stay with Aramis. Even from across the room he could read the pain in his lover’s eyes and it made him ache. This was not Athos’ fault. None of it was. Yet he knew the man bore the weight of it like a stone around his neck. 

“I will stop by the house and pick up some things for us,” Athos said, letting d’Artagnan know he was aware of him.

“Why don’t you let me go with you?” D’Artagnan tried again. “I could do that while you deal with Treville.”

“And leave Porthos here alone to tend to Aramis?” Athos asked, quirking an eyebrow and giving him a look that spoke volumes. 

“Porthos can manage,” d’Artagnan said, though he knew the argument was a weak one at best.

“Porthos is still injured as are you and Aramis has yet to awaken,” Athos said seriously. “If something were to happen... No, d’Artagnan. I’m sorry, but you are needed here with them.”

D’Artagnan blew out a breath and nodded. “I know you are right but the thought of you riding off alone does not sit well with me.” 

“I should only be gone a day,” Athos said.

“Unless something goes wrong,” d’Artagnan replied as he moved away from the doorway and toward his lover. He stopped in front of Athos and drew him into an embrace. 

“Nothing will go wrong,” Athos tried to reassure him.

“You don’t know that. Even so, I still do not like the idea of you riding out alone. All that has gone on has left its mark on you. I can see it in your eyes. You blame yourself but Athos, there was nothing else you could have done. You saved his life, if not his very soul.”

“It does not feel that way,” Athos admitted as he allowed d’Artagnan to hold him.

“I know but it is the truth. Porthos and I, we are so very grateful that you were able to save him. In truth, I do not know if I would have had the strength to do what you did. If it had come down to me, I would have failed him.”

“No, you would not have,” Athos told him. “You could no more fail him than you could will your own heart to stop beating.”

“And neither could you,” d’Artagnan pointed out. 

“As you say,” Athos said, conceding the argument for now. He was not sure he agreed with his young lover but now was not the time to argue about it. He needed to get under way.

With a last kiss, d’Artagnan stepped back from him. “Be careful. And if you aren’t back in two days we will come looking for you.”

“Not if Aramis still needs you,” Athos said.

“You are the most stubborn...”

“I learned from the best,” Athos grinned.

“Fine,” d’Artagnan said unable to keep from grinning back. “Then while you’re at the house would you mind bringing back my box? You know the one.”

“I’ll bring it,” Athos nodded. “Take care of yourself and look after our brothers. I’ll be back as quick as I can.”


End file.
